Maso 


THE   MYSTERY   OF    MISS    MOTTE 


THE  MYSTERY 
OF  MISS  MOTTE 


By 
CAROLINE  ATWATER  MASON 

Author  of  "A  Lily  of  France,  "  "  The.  Spell  of  Italy,  "  etc. 


WITH  A  FRONTISPIECE  IN  COLOUR  BY 
ALBERT  R.  THAYER 


BOSTON    A*     L.   C.   PAGE    & 
COMPANY    A*    MDCCCCIX 


Copyright,  1908 
BY  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANV 

Copyright,  1909 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 
All  rights ^reserved 


First  Impression,  April,  1909 


Blectrotyped  and  Printed  at 

THE    COLONIAL    PRESS: 
C.  H. Simonds  C&  Co., Boston,  U.S.A. 


THE    MYSTERY    OF 
MISS    MOTTE 


;  ¥~"MNALLY,    Beloved,    you    need 
rl    not  that  I  write  unto  you  fur- 
ther concerning  this  grace  of 
self-denial— 
"  Self-denial." 

The  word  was  echoed  with  the  col- 
ourless rising  inflection  of  the  amanuen- 
sis; the  dictator  on  the  other  hand  in- 
fused into  each  syllable  of  his  own  sen- 
tence a  sympathetic  emphasis.  The 
dictation  of  his  pastoral  epistle  by  the 
Reverend  Warner  Tiffany  proceeded 
for  some  moments  unbroken;  then  sud- 
denly the  hand  holding  his  manu- 


2229459 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

scripts  dropped,  and  Miss  Motte 
waited  in  vain  for  a  sentence. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  epistle 
any  way,  Miss  Motte  ?  ' '  the  clergyman 
asked  with  a  whimsical  smile. 

"  I  have  not  thought  anything  about 
it,  Dr.  Tiffany." 

Plainly  Miss  Motte,  though  greatly 
surprised  by  the  question,  was  a  young 
woman  of  self-possession.  The  room 
in  which  they  sat  at  work  was  an  offi- 
cial and  semi-public  study  in  the  par- 
ish house  of  Calvary  Church.  The 
white  light  of  the  snowy  March  morn- 
ing came  in  baldly  through  tall,  un- 
shaded windows,— a  good  light  for  cler- 
ical work,  but  a  poor  light  for  illusions 
or  the  softening  of  defects.  Dr.  Tif- 
fany's assistant  did  not  require  this 
form  of  consideration.  The  texture  of 
her  fine  brown  skin,  her  well-kept  hair, 
the  charming  freshness  of  her  white 
blouse,  asked  no  odds  of  the  morning 
2 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

light.  As  for  Dr.  Tiffany,  the  light 
served  to  bring  out  to  admiration  the 
impressive  modelling  of  his  features 
and  the  sensitive,  cynical  lines  about 
his  brow  and  lips.  The  clergyman's 
figure  was  imposing,  his  attitude  care- 
less yet  full  of  a  negligent  and  massive 
grace.  He  was  beyond  forty,  but  the 
hand  which  held  his  manuscript  was 
the  hand  of  a  young  man  still. 

A  middle-aged  woman  came  to  the 
open  doorway  and  stopped  for  a  word 
of  greeting.  She  wore  a  semi-official 
costume  of  dark  blue  and  spoke  with 
an  air  of  businesslike  decision. 

"  I  am  going  to  call  on  the  Mackies, 
Dr.  Tiffany.  Would  I  better  go  down 
to  the  Point  when  I  am  in  that  neigh- 
bourhood and  look  after  Katy  Duffy 
a  little?  I  hear  that  wretched  father 
is  drinking  again." 

"  How  many  times  has  that  man 
signed  the  pledge  in  my  presence, "  re- 

3 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

marked  Dr.  Tiffany,  "  and  how  many 
times  has  he  hastened  to  break  it  with 
a  promptness  which  would  have  made 
him  a  success  in  any  other  field  of  ac- 
tivity. At  the  close  of  a  campaign, 
Miss  Hill,  Duffy  is  not  always  a  Ches- 
terfield. On  the  whole  I  advise  your 
not  going  to  the  Point." 

"  Very  well." 

Miss  Hill  disappeared  down  the  long 
corridor. 

"  You  will  have  to  look  out  for  the 
Duffys,  Miss  Motte.  Miss  Hill  is  not 
the  one.  Please  remember." 

Dr.  Tiffany's  tone  was  direct  now, 
peremptory  even.  Miss  Motte  assented 
quickly  and  turned  back  to  her  dicta- 
tion. 

"  That  Yokohama  letter  must  go 
out  in  time  to  catch  the  Saturday 
steamer  without  fail.  Have  you  writ- 
ten it?  " 

"  Not  yet,  Dr.  Tiffany."  There  was 
4 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

one  serious  glance  as  of  mute  appeal 
from  Miss  Motte 's  eyes,  then  submis- 
sive silence. 

"  '  Not  yet,'  because  I  keep  you  here 
wasting  your  time  on  the  platitudes  of 
my  precious  pastoral  when  you  wish 
to  be  doing  a  thousand  real  things. 
Tell  me  I  haven't  read  your  rebellious 
brain  aright,  if  you  dare!  ' 

Leaning  back  in  his  armchair,  Dr. 
Tiffany  gazed  seriously,  and  yet  half 
satirically  at  his  assistant.  Something 
in  his  look,  something  indefinable  about 
him  altogether  this  morning  seemed  to 
threaten  the  hitherto  strictly  cool  neu- 
trality of  their  business-like,  official 
relation  and  disturbed  the  girl.  Her 
colour  deepened. 

"  I  do  not  understand  how  you  can 
speak  like  that  of  a  thing  which  means 
so  much  to  all  the  people,"  she  said, 
with  some  inner  trembling  at  her  own 
boldness. 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  My  dear  Miss  Motte,  there  is  no 
particular  use  in  walking  delicately 
around  that  pastoral  of  mine.  All  it 
really  has  to  say  is:  —  we  are  going  to 
build  a  new  church  because  a  man 
called  Warner  Tiffany  has  decided  that 
the  location  of  the  present  one  is  un- 
fashionable and  the  architecture  not  to 
his  taste.  You  other  fellows  must  pro- 
duce the  money.  Down  with  the  dust, 
gentlemen!  The  dollar  mould  is  the 
mould  in  which  you  are  asked  to  run 
your  religion  for  the  next  two  years. 
We  shall  call  it,  however,  by  a  prettier 
name;  self-denial  suits  a  pastoral  bet- 
ter and  self-denial  it  shall  be." 

Miss  Motte  rose  as  he  finished 
speaking  and  deliberately  tore  in 
strips  the  sheet  she  had  been  copying. 
Her  eyes,  which  were  dark  and  vel- 
vety and  usually  filled  with  a  strange 
and  haunting  sadness,  flashed  with  in- 
dignation. 

6 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Regarding  her  imperturbably,  Dr. 
Tiffany  shook  his  head  and  commented: 

"  You  must  learn  to  control  your 
temper,  Miss  Motte.  You  shock  me 
painfully." 

"  I  have  a  right  to  be  angry,"  she 
murmured,  "  when  you  turn  all  my 
gold  to  dust,  when  you  make  sacred 
things  mean  and  high  things  cheap." 

"  Have  I  done  that?  Truly,  have  I 
hurt  you,  my  girl?  You  should  have 
been  made  of  sterner  stuff.  You  dis- 
appoint me.  Is  it  possible  that  you 
prefer  posing?  that  you  cannot  bear  a 
man's  honest  nature?  You  are  a  ro- 
mantic idealist  like  other  girls,  after 
all.  Please  sit  down  at  your  desk, 
however;  I  am  not  done  yet,  —  look  at 
the  clock!  " 

Miss  Motte  hesitated,  feeling  more 
uneasy  with  every  word.  Then  her 
hand  was  taken  and  she  found  herself 
drawn  to  a  chair  nearer  to  Dr.  Tif- 

7 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

fany's  than  her  own.  Her  breath  came 
quick  and  she  turned  away  her  head, 
striving  to  release  the  hand  which  he 
detained. 

"  Why  pull  so  at  thy  chain?  Let  me 
have  your  hand  just  a  minute  in  my 
great  paw;  it  might  turn  me  into  an 
idealist  too.  Do  not  misunderstand: 
it  is  not  a  liberty  I  seek,  but  a  right. 
That  will  be  clear  presently.  But 
where  did  you  ever  get  such  a  hand, 
useless  little  thing  to  look  at  yet  with 
such  an  obstinate,  industrious  nature 
just  under  the  surface?  a  veritable 
iron  hand  it  is  in  a  velvet  glove.  Very 
well  —  take  it  then !  I  am  not  for 
holding  the  glove  if  the  hand  resist 


me.' 


Miss  Motte  rose,  but  found  Warner 
Tiffany,  having  risen  too,  confronting 
her  with  eyes  full  of  a  compelling  ten- 
derness, and  of  something  distinctly 
beyond  tenderness.  Nevertheless  his 
8 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

voice  was  as  unemotional  as  ever  when 
he  spoke. 

"  My  child,  has  it  ever  occurred  to 
you  that  you  and  I  could  do  very  well 
to  be  married  to  each  other?  ' 

"  No,  never." 

"  As  I  supposed.  You  have  re- 
garded me  as  your  master.  In  point  of 
fact  I  have  for  some  time  been  your 
slave.  You  have  tabulated  me  as  a 
rather  aged  clergyman.  In  reality  I 
am  a  man  and  not  old  at  all,  even  in 
years,  and  a  man  who  wholly  loves 
you,  Noelle." 

"  Dr.  Tiffany,  you  must  be  mis- 
taken." Miss  Motte  spoke  with  agita- 
tion, and  her  eyes  were  wide  with 
alarm. 

"  No,  I  am  not  mistaken,"  he  said 
gravely;  "  my  mind  has  been  made 
up  for  months.  But  I  see  you  are  not 
at  all  inclined  toward  marrying  me." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  inclined  to  marry 

9 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

any  one,"  the  girl  said  earnestly.  They 
were  walking  now  the  length  of  the 
great  room  towards  the  door  of  her 
own  small  office.  "  Long  ago,  Dr.  Tif- 
fany, I  took  a  vow  never  to  marry;  I 
shall  keep  it— always."  The  last  word 
was  spoken  with  slow,  and  even  sol- 
emn emphasis. 

He  smiled  indulgently,  but  the  sad- 
ness in  his  face  touched  Miss  Motte 
poignantly.  After  all,  it  seemed  that 
he  was  in  earnest,  and  some  stir  in  her 
heart  suggested  that  if  Warner  Tiffany 
were  in  earnest,  he  might  be  hard  to 
resist. 

"  Do  not  let  those  adolescent  vows 
have  too  much  weight  with  you,  Miss 
Motte,"  he  said,  with  ironical  gentle- 
ness. "  We  all  make  those  mistakes 
when  we  are  very  young.  Forget  the 
question  I  have  raised.  I  shall  not 
trouble  you  again  with  it— at  pres- 
ent; "  with  the  words  he  looked  stead- 
10 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

ily  into  her  face  with  something  in  his 
look  which  made  her  pulses  quicken 
and  brought  tears  to  her  eyes.  "  To- 
morrow we  will  do  the  pastoral. " 

"  I  think  your  new  assistant  would 
do  that  better,"  said  Miss  Motte,  and 
smiled.  "  He  will  be  here  so  soon 


now.' 


"  Which  is  to  say  that  you  persist 
in  your  rebellion?  Very  well.  What 
have  you  on  hand  this  morning?  ' 

"  The  letters,  and  my  room  to  clear 
for  Mr.  Dane." 

"  Very  true;  you  must  do  that.  You 
will  not  be  working  here  much  longer, 
will  you?  But  I  shall  count  upon  you 
as  before  for  the  parish  work." 

"  You  may,  Dr.  Tiffany." 


ir 


n 

LATE  the  following  afternoon 
Miss  Motte  alighted  from  a  car- 
riage driven  up  before  a  stately 
house  on  Ridge  Road,  the  aristocratic 
street  of  Pemberton.  She  was  followed 
to  the  pillared  portico  by  a  beautiful 
woman  wrapped  in  furs,  beneath  which 
a  reception  gown  of  delicate  lace  and 
satin  could  be  seen.  The  woman  was 
Mrs.  Matthew  O'Brien  and  the  house 
was  her  home.  She  had  a  quantity  of 
dry,  bright  bright  hair  rolled  high  from 
off  her  forehead  and  eyes  of  a  topaz 
colour,  full  of  subtle  and  changing 
lights.  The  two  entered  the  great  hall 
together  and  proceeded  slowly  up  the 
shallow  cushioned  steps  of  the  broad 
staircase. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  knocked  at  a  closed 
12 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

door  which  was  promptly  opened  by  a 
young  man.     "  How  is  he,  Boyle?  ' 
she  asked.    "  Can  I  bring  Miss  Motte 
in  for  a  few  minutes'?    She  always  does 
him  good." 

Boyle    hesitated.      "  His    head    is 
pretty  bad  to-day,   Mrs.   O'Brien,  - 
he  began,  but  was  interrupted  by  a 
voice  from  within. 

"  Hello,  Cornie!    What's  doing?  " 

"  Can't  we  come  in,  Matt?  '  '  Mrs. 
O'Brien  pushed  the  door  wider  open. 
Boyle  stood  aside.  "  I  have  just  come 
from  Elinor  Bishop's  kettledrum.  It 
was  a  deadly  bore,  so  I  captured  dear 
little  Mottley  and  brought  her  home  to 
cure  your  head  by  laying  on  of  hands. 
Please  let  us  in!  We're  great  fun- 
full  of  malice,  envy  and  all  unchari- 
tableness." 

"  If  that's  the  case,  come  right  in. 
You  must  have  psychics  enough  to 
cure  anything. 


" 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

The  room  which  they  entered  was 
of  unusual  size  and  peculiar  equip- 
ment. Microscopes  and  various  scien- 
tific instruments  filled  large  tables; 
books  and  periodicals  were  piled  high 
on  all  sides;  in  the  midst  stood  an 
invalid  chair  with  high  back  and  arms 
which  rendered  almost  invisible  the 
person  who  occupied  it.  Appliances 
of  diverse  kinds  surrounded  the  chair; 
movable  racks,  frames  and  shelves 
contrived  to  hold  books  and  instru- 
ments at  convenient  points.  Every- 
thing in  the  room,  in  fine,  seemed  to 
focus  and  centre  in  the  person  of  the 
man  in  the  invalid  chair;  a  man  whose 
face  and  body  were  wofully  marred 
and  whose  limbs  were  hopelessly  crip- 
pled. The  only  possessions  left  this 
man  unspoiled  were,  it  appeared,  his 
firm,  resonant  voice,  his  keen  intelli- 
gence, and  the  eyes  through  which  it 
shone. 

14 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Motte,"  he 
cried,  as  the  girl  followed  Mrs.  O'Brien 
to  the  place  where  he  sat;  "  Hello, 
lady-love!  What  a  charming  bonnet! 
Pretty  creature,  isn't  she,  Miss 
Motte?  " 

"  Don't  talk  about  me,  Matt;  look 
at  Noelle  in  this  fine  new  tailor  gown, 
made  by  her  own  hands  if  you  please, 
every  stitch  of  it.  Is  she  the  talented 
creature?  ': 

"  You  have  something  marvellous 
in  your  hands,  Miss  Motte,  for  a  fact. 
That  costume  has  something  about  it 
beyond  the  dressmaker's  art,— the  con- 
secrating touch  which  bends  matter  to 
the  spirit's  uses." 

"  How  fine!'  cried  the  girl.  "I 
never  dreamed  I  had  all  that." 

"  You  know  you  can  do  anything 
with  your  hands,  Noelle,"  said  Mrs. 
O'Brien,  drawing  up  a  chair  for  her 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

friend  as  she  spoke;  "  sew,  cook,  write 
—and  cure  headaches. " 

"Can  you-?" 

Mr.  O'Brien  asked  the  question  with 
abruptness,  a  recurring  paroxysm  of 
pain  showing  in  his  eyes,  his  whole 
frame  growing  tense. 

"  Poor  love!'  cried  his  wife  ten- 
derly. "  It  has  been  an  unmerciful 
day,  I  see." 

Miss  Motte  had  already  laid  aside 
her  gloves.  Standing  behind  his  chair, 
she  quietly  laid  her  finger-tips  on 
Matt's  forehead,  and  proceeded  to 
draw  them  with  a  slow,  equable 
movement  across  the  quivering  tem- 
ples. 

There  was  a  long  silence  in  the 
dusky,  fire-lighted  room.  Boyle  had 
disappeared.  Mrs.  O'Brien  watched 
Noelle's  hands  with  wistful  serious- 
ness. Gradually  the  invalid's  strained 
muscles  relaxed,  his  hands  dropped 
16 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Matte 

from  their  clutch  upon  the  arms  of  the 
chair.  His  wife  nodded  with  the  mist 
in  her  eyes  shot  through  by  a  triumph- 
ant smile,  then  slipped  away  to  a  dis- 
tant sofa  where  she  curled  down 
among  a  heap  of  cushions. 

"  You  will  be  tired  with  standing 
so  long."  Matt  spoke  at  last  with 
dreamy  slowness.  "  Sit  down  now. 
That  is  right.  Put  your  fingers  on 
my  wrists  if  you  will;  the  pulses  are 
mutinous  still." 

Noelle  pushed  back  the  sleeves  of 
the  housecoat  and  drew  her  fingers 
slowly  down  the  wrists  which  were 
deeply  scarred  to  the  tips  of  the  sen- 
sitive, wasted  fingers.  The  sight  of 
those  scars  brought  tears  to  her  eyes, 
as  it  had  before.  They  told  again  a 
story  she  could  not  recall  unmoved. 
Ten  years  ago,  long  before  she  came 
to  Pemberton,  there  had  been  a  fire  in 
the  building  in  which  Matthew  O'Brien 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

had  his  chemical  laboratory.  In  order 
to  save  a  boy  who  was  cleaning  appa- 
ratus for  him,  he  gave  up  his  own 
chance  to  escape  uninjured  and  was 
burned  almost  beyond  recognition. 
At  the  time  he  had  been  married  but 
a  year,  and  with  every  advantage  of 
wealth,  position  and  intellectual  prom- 
ise had  been  accounted  one  of  the  most 
fortunate  of  men. 

For  a  while  the  silence  remained 
unbroken;  Mrs.  O'Brien  in  her  far 
corner  seemed  asleep.  Noelle  found 
Matt's  eyes  resting  steadily  upon  her; 
languor  was  taking  the  place  in  them 
of  pain,  but  even  so  she  knew  their  look 
penetrated  deeper  than  the  looks  of 
other  men. 

"  You  were  born  in  India,  Miss 
Motte?  " 

The  words  had  the  effect  of  reflec- 
tion rather  than  a  question. 

"  Yes.    In  Mussoorie." 
18 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Mussoorie!  What  a  musical  name 
as  you  speak  it.  You  caress  the  sylla- 
bles as  if  you  loved  each  one." 

"  I  do  love  the  name  though  I  can- 
not remember  the  place.  It  must  be 
wonderful  though  —  built  on  a  peak 
of  the  Himalayas,  you  know." 

"  It  suits  you  to  have  come  down 
from  some  mysterious,  inaccessible 
Himalayan  height.  It  serves  to  ac- 
count for  that  air  of  remote,  inexpli- 
cable distinction  which  you  bear  about 
with  you." 

Noelle  laughed  softly. 

"  Imagine  a  Yankee  girl  like  me 
describable  in  such  sounding  terms!  ' 

"  It  would  require  a  greater  stretch 
of  imagination  to  believe  you  a  Yankee 
girl.  No  Yankee  girl  ever  had  a  hand 
like  yours,  with  the  Oriental  touch  of 
magic  and  mystery  in  it,  for  which 
Allah  be  praised." 

"  All  the  same  I  am  of  New  Eng- 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

land  birth  on  my  father's  side.  You 
have  heard  of  him,— David  Motte?  ' 

"  Certainly  I  have  heard  of  your 
father.  He  accomplished  a  great  work 
in  that  mission  of  his  in  India,  in  a 
short  life.  Did  he  die  in  this  country? 
I  forget." 

"  Yes,  in  his  own  village,  in  Maine. 
He  brought  us  home,  my  mother  and 
me,  he  supposed  on  furlough." 

"  That  sounds  as  if  he  were  a  sol- 
dier." 

"  Yes,  .he  was  a  soldier,  like  all  his 
fellow-missioners,  literally  a  soldier  of 
the  Cross,  a  knight  crusader.  So  he 
counted  not  his  life  dear.  .  .  .  This  is 
his  likeness." 

As  Noelle  spoke  she  detached  a 
locket  worn  within  her  dress  from  its 
thin  gold  chain,  opened  it  and  handed 
it  to  Mr.  O'Brien.  He  turned  on  a 
light  under  a  green  globe  at  his  elbow 


20 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

and  sat  silent  for  some  moments  study- 
ing the  miniature. 

"  My  mother  painted  it,"  Noelle 
said  shyly,  her  face  flushed  with  a  ten- 
der, childlike  pride. 

The  face  was  that  of  a  man  of  thirty- 
five,  with  pale  auburn  hair  and  brilliant 
blue  eyes,  irregular  features  and  lofty 
expression. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  face  of  a  soldier," 
said  Matt  at  length  very  gently,  "  but 
essentially  of  the  mystic  also  and  the 
New  England  mystic.  It  is  certainly 
very  strange,"  and  he  handed  back  the 
locket. 

"  What  is  very  strange?  ': 

Mrs.  O'Brien  asked  the  question, 
crossing  to  take  a  footstool  at  her  hus- 
band's feet.  "  That  your  headache  is 
cured?  Not  strange  at  all  for  Noelle, 
though  occult.  To  tell  the  truth  I  am 
a  little  afraid  of  you,  Mottley,  you  are 


21 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

such  a  wizard.  Matt,"  with  a  quick 
change  of  tone,  "  do  you  know  that 
Noelle  is  about  giving  up  her  work  at 
Calvary  Church  Avith  all  its  splendid 
emoluments,— three  hundred  a  year, 
isn't  it,  my  dear,  and  a  chance  to  pray 
in  six  different  languages?— and  is  to 
set  up  in  business  for  herself?  ' 

"  Oh,  if  you  please,  Mrs.  O'Brien," 
cried  Noelle,  her  colour  deepening,  "  I 
am  not  quite  giving  up  my  work  at 
Calvary  nor  quite  setting  up  in  busi- 
ness for  myself." 

"  Dear,"  said  Matt  coolly,  "  you  are 
always  charming  and  often  inaccurate. 
No,  don't  protest.  Let  Miss  Motte  ex- 
plain. She  may  after  all  be  as  well 
informed  on  the  point  as  you.  Go  on, 
Miss  Motte." 

"It  is   simply,"   proceeded  Noelle, 

11  that  your  wife  has  been  so  good  as 

to  form  classes  for  me  in  French  and 

I  am  to  grow  so  rich  as  to  be  able  to 

22 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

take  a  tiny  house  and  send  for  my  dear 
mother  to  live  with  me.  This  makes  it 
difficult  for  me  to  assist  Dr.  Tiffany 
as  I  have  been  doing,  in  office  work, 
but  I  am  still  to  help  among  the 
French  and  Italian  people  of  the  par- 
ish/' 

"  Of  course  Dr.  Tiffany  would  not 
let  you  go  altogether,"  commented 
Mrs.  O'Brien.  "  He  knows  he  will 
never  find  another  church  missionary 
who  speaks  so  many  languages  and  at 
the  same  time  has  a  heart  in  her 
bosom.  Whom  is  he  to  have  now  to 
help  him  in  the  office  work?  ' 

"  The  name  is  Dane,  a  young  man 

from  P ,  I  think.  He  is  to  do  much 

more  than  I  have  ever  done,  you  know, 
he  will  preach  and  help  in  everything. 
Dr.  Tiffany  will  require  so  much  help 
with  the  new  church  to  be  built." 

"  Oh,  a  curate,  in  fact,"  said  Matt, 
as  if  not  keenly  interested  in  Dr.  Tif- 

23 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

fany's  assistant.  "  And  so  your 
mother  is  coming  to  Pemberton,  Miss 
Motte?  I  congratulate  you.  Will  you 
not  bring  her  sometime  to  see  me?  ' 

Miss  Motte  had  risen  to  go. 

"  Oh,  if  I  may!  "  she  exclaimed  joy- 
fully. "  You  can't  think  how  vain 
I  am  of  her!  She  is  French,  Mr. 
O'Brien;  perhaps  I  told  you,  but  her 
English  is  very  nice." 

"  It  seems  odd,"  remarked  Mrs. 
O'Brien,  "  that  an  American  mission- 
ary should  marry  a  French  lady, 
doesn't  it?  " 

"  Not  odd  when  you  know  Maman," 
laughed  Noelle.  "  My  father  met  her 
in  Agra.  They  fell  in  love— voila! 
It  *  has  happened  often,  I  am  told. 
Goodbye." 

"  A  moment!  Where  are  you  to 
live?  " 

"  On  Gore  Terrace,  Number  78." 

"  Extremely  pretentious  I  call  that." 
24 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Yes,  but  the  house— it  is  a  rabbit- 
hutch!  It  is  not  even  ^pretentious." 

"  No  matter,  Noelle,  you  will  make 
it  an  earthly  paradise,"  interposed 
Mrs.  O'Brien. 

"  That  is  my  intention." 


in 

NUMBER  78  Gore  Terrace  was 
an  unpainted,  low-roofed  house 
once  appurtenance  of  a  farm 
whose  boundaries  had  long  since  been 
obliterated.  Among  the  modern  dwell- 
ings of  the  street  with  their  bays  and 
balconies,  plateglass  windows  and  gen- 
eral air  of  architectural  smartness,  it 
showed  pitiful  and  forlorn,  an  obsti- 
nate yet  decaying  little  excrescence, 
mourned  over  by  a  few  weatherbeaten 
apple-trees,  veterans  of  a  disbanded 
orchard. 

On  the  first  days  of  April  the  neigh- 
bours nearest  to  Number  78  saw  with 
amazement  that  its  doors  and  windows 
were  thrown  open,  were  washed  and 
scoured,  were  decorated  by  dainty  cur- 
tains and  blossoming  plants;  in  short, 
26 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

that  some  incredibly  shortsighted  per- 
sons had  dared  to  foredoom  themselves 
to  social  oblivion  by  taking  up  their 
abode  in  the  long  untenanted  cottage. 

But  greater  amazement  awaited  the 
inhabitants  of  Gore  Terrace  when,  on 
an  afternoon  at  the  end  of  the  first 
week  of  April,  the  shining  brougham 
and  spirited  horses  of  Mrs.  Matthew 
O'Brien  were  seen  standing  for  an 
hour  before  the  lowly  door  of  Number 
78.  Mrs.  O'Brien  herself  appeared  at 
length  upon  the  door  step,  stood  there 
for  a  protracted  parting,  gathered  up 
her  dainty  skirts  and  stepped  to  her 
carriage,  then  having  entered  it, 
turned  and  waved  a  kiss  from  her 
finger-tips  to  a  dark-haired  girl  who 
stood  in  the  doorway.  As  the  carriage 
rolled  away  the  cottage  door  was 
closed  and  Gore  Terrace  had  chance 
to  recover  itself  and  think  the  matter 
over. 

27 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

Wholly  oblivious  to  the  scrutiny 
bent  upon  her  humble  dwelling  and 
the  excitement  caused  by  her  visitor, 
Noelle  turned  back  to  the  work  which 
the  visit  had  interrupted.  In  spite  of 
the  absence  of  provision  for  anything 
but  bare  enclosure  of  space  afforded 
by  the  house,  the  interior  had  already 
taken  on  atmosphere  and  charm.  The 
walls  were  softly  tinted,  the  floors  cov- 
ered with  India  matting  and  rugs;  the 
sunny  little  parlour  was  crowded  with 
books  and  pictures,  pieces  of  Oriental 
bronze  and  pottery,  and  teakwood  fur- 
niture. The  dining-room  beyond  it, 
which  with  a  tiny  kitchen  constituted 
the  entire  ground  floor  of  the  house, 
was  furnished  with  quaint  and  care- 
fully restored  mahogany. 

In  this  room,  although  the  windows 

were  open  to  the  April  air,  a  fire  of 

broken  orchard  boughs  crackled  in  a 

small  fireplace;  beside  it  sat  a  white- 

28 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

haired  woman  in  a  graceful  gown  of 
clinging  black,  busily  sewing  brass 
rings  upon  a  voluminous  curtain  of 
coarse-woven  Eastern  fabric. 

"  You  make  long  adieux,  Noelle.  I 
have  almost  finished  the  curtain." 

Mrs.  Motte  spoke  in  French  with 
noticeable  purity  of  accent;  her  small 
hands  showed  delicately  white  upon 
the  rough  surface  of  the  drapery;  her 
face  and  figure  were  fragile  but  dis- 
tinguished, the  eyes  clear,  blue-gray, 
and  serious,  the  small  head  almost  girl- 
ish in  contour  by  reason  of  the  fulness 
and  inclination  to  curl  of  the  thick 
white  hair. 

Noelle  took  the  curtain  from  her 
mother's  hand  and  looked  down  into 
her  face,  her  own  irradiated  with  joy- 
ous light. 

"  Am  I  happy,  Maman?  "  she  cried. 
"  Have  I  a  home?  have  I  a  mother 
who  is  an  angel  and  my  very  own? 
29 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

have  I  friends,  gay  and  fine,  to  whom 
to  show  her  off?  And  then  is  she  mine 
to  come  back  to  and  rest  my  heart's 
heart  upon?  Oh  little  Mere  Angelique, 
your  girl  did  need  you!  ' 

"Noelle,Noelle!" 

Mrs.  Motte  drew  the  girl,  who  was 
crying  happy  tears,  to  a  low  seat  at  her 
side  and  pressed  her  head  against  her 
knee. 

"  Poor  little  one,"  she  murmured 
softly;  "  she  has  been  lonely  and  over- 
worked. But  now  she  shall  carry 
alone  no  more  burdens.  Mother  has 
come,  Noelle." 

Under  the  girl's  breath  came  a  sob, 
but  it  was  cut  through  by  a  ripple  of 
low  laughter. 

"  It  is  joy  that  is  crying,"  she  said. 

"  And  it  is  also  fatigue,"  added  her 
mother  sedately.  "  You  worked  too 
hard,  also  the  visit  of  your  friend  Mrs. 
O'Brien  was  very  long.  She  is  delight- 

3° 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Matte 

ful,  but  she  claims  your  resources  with- 
out cessation  while  she  is  with  you. 
She  is  one  to  admire,  but  one  who  must 
be  admired  at  every  moment,  else—!  ' 
Mrs.  Motte  broke  off  with  a  slight  ex- 
pressive gesture  of  her  slender  hands. 

"  She  is  dear,  and  she  is  doing  every- 
thing for  me  here  in  Pemberton,  Ma- 
man,  but  I  begged  her  not  to  come 
until  to-morrow  and  she  should  have 
obeyed.  Then  all  would  have  been  in 
order." 

"  My  child,  those  who  know  you 
always  follow  you,  whether  you  wish 
it  or  not.  It  is  your  fate  to  draw  them, 
and  it  was  so  ever,  even  when  you 
were  a  child  in  India.  Your  ayah  pre- 
ferred to  die  rather  than  be  left  behind 
when  we  left  Agra;  accordingly  we 
were  forced  to  trail  her  around  Europe 
and  you  then  a  great  girl  of  twelve.  It 
was  most  inconvenient,  having  her  die 
in  London  and  all." 

31 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Poor  Soonderbai!  ' 

"  When  she  died,  Noelle,  I  did  not 
understand  that  we  were  coming  under 
the  law  of  death— I  did  not  dream 
what  was  to  follow  when  death  once 
entered—  Mrs.  Motte  spoke  low  and 
rapidly,  then  her  voice  faltered  and 
broke  with  a  strange,  dry  sob.  Noelle 
sprang  to  her  feet,  her  face  paling  sud- 
denly, but  a  smile  on  her  lips. 

"  The  emotional  number  having 
been  rendered,"  she  cried  gaily,  "  we 
will  now  relax,  have  tea,  loaf  and  in- 
vite our  souls.  We  have  been  confined 
at  hard  labour  too  long.  That  horrid 
elk  of  a  curtain  with  its  brass  horns 
shall  not  be  hung  until  to-morrow  al- 
though it  deserves  hanging  this  minute 
for  tiring  Maman.  Won't  you  please 
get  out  the  best  Canton  cups,  while  I 
hunt  for  that  caddy  of  Dehra  Dun  te- 
koe.  Where  did  you  put  it,  love?  In 
one  of  these  drawers?  ': 
32 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Already  Noelle  was  upon  her  knees 
before  the  mahogany  secretary.  Her 
mother  rose  and  stood  motionless  for 
an  instant  save  for  a  tremor  which  ran 
over  her  frame,  then  with  a  quick 
movement  she  turned  to  an  antique 
cabinet  from  which  she  brought  out 
a  brass  equipage  for  tea  making.  Her 
hands  trembled  and  the  faint  colour  in 
her  cheeks  had  deepened  perceptibly. 

"  Ah,  here  it  is!  "  cried  Noelle,  ex- 
ultantly, producing  a  beautiful  lac- 
quered caddy  into  which  she  peered 
anxiously.  "  The  dear  old  thing- 
older  than  I,  isn't  it,  Maman?  And 
there  is  left  in  it  quite  half  a  pound 
of  best  tekoe.  How  fragrant  it  is! 
One  whiff  of  that  odour  takes  me  to 
the  Isthmus,— two,  all  the  way  home 
to  Agra.  Not  a  grain  of  it  shall  be 
wasted  on  any  being  who  has  not  come 
from  India  or  some  other  celestial  re- 
gion. These  Occidentals  don't  know 

33 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

flowery  tekoe  from  oats-pease-beans- 
and-barley-grows,  as  you-and-I-and- 
nobody-knows !  Don't  let's  waste  it 
on  them.  Maman  shall  have  a  cup 
every  Saturday  afternoon  when  she's 
tried  all  the  week  to  be  good." 

While  the  girl  chattered  on  she  was 
busy  with  a  long  handled  spoon  dip- 
ping a  few  leaves  from  the  caddy  and 
putting  them  into  the  transparent  cups 
which  Mrs.  Motte  had  now  placed 
upon  the  table.  Not  for  an  instant  did 
her  eyes  fail  to  watch  her  mother's 
face  with  veiled  but  piercing  eager- 
ness. 

"  Now  see  you  to  the  hot  water, 
love,"  she  cried  with  a  long  breath  as 
of  relief  and  took  her  place  again  on 
the  hearth  rug. 

"  You  don't  mind  my  tyrannizing 
over  you,  do  you?  "  she  ran  on  gaily. 
"  That  is  what  I  brought  you  to  Pem- 
berton  for  chiefly,  you  know.  When 

34 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

you  have  been  ordered  about  yourself 
right  on  steady  for  two  years,  bidden 
here  and  bidden  there,  scolded  and 
praised  as  if  you  were  a  little  monkey, 
the  time  comes  when  you  have  to  get 
a  chance  at  it  yourself." 

"  Is  Dr.  Tiffany  then  a  tyrant?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Motte  quietly,  taking 
lumps  of  sugar  from  a  curious  old 
silver  porringer  with  a  pair  of  quaintly 
wrought  and  jewelled  scissors.  "  I  saw 
him  but  once,  but  I  considered  him 
most  distinguished  and  amiable.  He 
seemed  to  appreciate  my  girl." 

Mrs.  Motte  spoke  casually,  all  strain 
gone  from  her  face  and  manner  as  she 
handed  Noelle  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  Which  was  enough  for  Maman 
naturally.  You  can  be  flattered  into 
any  opinion  by  way  of  Noelle,  can't 
you,  dear?  Oh,  that  bell  with  its  tin- 
tin-tinny-tabulation  !  ' 

Noelle  set  down  her  cup,  went  to  the 
35 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

house  door  and  came  back  with  four 
letters  in  her  hand.  Three  she  handed 
to  her  mother;  the  seal  of  the  other 
she  broke  with  one  motion  of  her  swift 
brown  hand,  then  read  as  follows : 

"DEAR  GIRL:— Stop  a  minute  in  your 
labours  at  turning  a  Christian  cottage 
into  a  bit  of  heathendom  and  think  of 
the  perfectly  worthy  fellow-man  whom 
you  have  deserted.  Mrs.  O'Brien  keeps 
me  informed  of  your  doings;  says  you 
have  set  up  a  small  pink-and-white 
mother  to  whom  you  offer  oblations  of 
incense  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  even 
unto  the  going  down  of  the  same. 
Why  would  you  not  take  me  for  a 
mother? 

"  '  Thy  elder  brother  I  would  be, 
Thy  father,  anything  to  thee.' 

I  have  a  fine  taste  for  oblations  my- 
self which  you  have  never  gratified. 
36 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  I  am  writing  to  report  on  your 
successor,  now  duly  installed.  I  am 
already  satisfied  that  he  will  make  a 
far  more  efficient  assistant  than  the 
last  incumbent.  Does  that  make  your 
cheek  glow  like  a  sunrise  in  autumn 
and  the  dusky  velvet  of  your  eyes 
change  to  flame  ?  I  hope  so.  If  I  could 
but  see  you  once  more  in  one  of  your 
wraths ! 

"  To  tell  the  truth  the  new  Cub  is  a 
contrarious  Cub  and  when  I  saw  him 
some  thirty  minutes  since  sitting  at 
your  desk  and  having  the  impudence 
to  use  your  very  blotter  and  ink  bottle 
I  all  but  exterminated  him.  I  cannot 
now  remember  why  I  didn't  quite.  It 
was  certainly  heedless  of  me.  There 
are  many  things  to  be  said  against  him 
as,  item:  he  keeps  records  of  things 
and  conscientiously  submits  them  to 
me,  has  a  beggarly  system  about  him 
which  my  soul  hateth;  also,  he  looks 

37 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

up  to  me  with  reverence;  I  apprehend 
that  I  am  in  some  sort  his  ideal. 
Fancy  how  it  bores  me!  You  never 
bored  me  that  way.  Alas  and  yet 
again  alas!  The  Stoics  to-night.  I 
must  order  the  terrapin  this  minute. 
"  Yours, 

"  WARNER  TIFFANY." 


"  From  whom  is  your  letter,  No- 
elle?  "  asked  Mrs.  Motte. 

As  she  spoke  she  stepped  to  the  fire 
and  threw  into  the  embers  a  letter  with 
a  foreign  post  mark.  The  seal  of  the 
letter  remained  unbroken  Noelle  ob- 
served, but  she  made  no  comment  on 
the  circumstance. 

"  It  is  from  Dr.  Tiffany." 

"  Very  courteous  of  him,  I  am  sure. 
Men  of  his  stamp  seldom  remember 
those  who  serve  them." 

"  True.    It  is  better,  I  think,  they 

38 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

should  not.  Is  some  one  knocking  at 
the  kitchen  door?  ' 

"I  think  so." 

"  How  tiresome!  I  wish  we  could 
'  live,  love,  die,  alone,  John,'  for  five 
minutes. ' ' 

As  she  spoke  Noelle  left  the  room 
and  opening  the  kitchen  door  found 
there  a  small,  ragged  boy  whom  she  re- 
membered. He  handed  her  an  untidy 
scrap  of  paper  tightly  folded.  Open- 
ing it  she  read: 

"  Please  come  to  Ward's  Point 
quick.  I  may  have  to  die.  KATY." 

Giving  the  child  a  dime,  Noelle 
turned  away  when  he  said: 

"  That  little  gal  of  Mis'  Jenkins's 
what  lives  down  to  the  Point  she  come 
on  the  keen  jump  with  that  letter  as 
fur's  our  house  and  got  me  to  fetch 
it  the  rest  of  the  way.  She  said  the 

39 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

old  man's  goin'  on  somethin'  awful- 
fit  to  kill." 

"  Thank  you,  Jim.  That  is  all." 
Returning  to  the  dining-room,  Noelle 
told  her  mother  in  a  careless  tone  that 
she  had  to  go  out  and  look  up  some 
tiresome  Sunday  school  children. 
Without  apparent  haste  she  made  her- 
self ready  for  the  street,  bade  blithe 
good-bye  and  went  out.  The  moment 
the  house  door  closed  upon  her  she 
dropped  her  air  of  indifference  and 
fairly  flew  to  the  end  of  Gore  Terrace 
where  the  car  line  passed. 


40 


IV 

WHILE     Miss    Motte    in    her 
shabby  cottage   was  reading 
his   letter,   Dr.    Tiffany   was 
seated  much  at  ease  in  Mrs.  O'Brien's 
drawing-room. 

Turning  to  him  from  her  last  depart- 
ing visitor,  his  hostess,  a  radiant  vision 
in  house  gown  of  pearly  white,  cried : 

"  Thank  Heaven  the  last  bore  is 
gone  and  you  can  talk  to  me!  I  trust 
you  are  in  anti-clerical  vein  to-day." 

"  Was  I  ever  in  other  than  that  in 
your  presence,  Madam?  ' 

"  Perhaps  not,— save  only  at  the 
font  and  altar.  Still  I  am  not  sure." 

Mrs.  O'Brien  had  seated  herself  for 
a  tete-a-tete  with  the  clergyman,  who 
regarded  her  with  meditative  admira- 
tion. 

41 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Tell  me  now  about  your  Viking; 
I  saw  him  yesterday  afar  off.  How  did 
he  happen?  I  foresee  that  he  will  add 
to  the  gaiety  of  the  nation." 

"  My  Viking,  is  it?  Let  me  think. 
I  shall  be  able  to  follow  in  time.  In 
that  pose,  Mrs.  O'Brien,  you  are  a 
Sargent  portrait.  Pray  do  not  move." 

"  I  suppose  you  expect  me  to  say 
that  you  are  a  Sargent  or  even  a  Van 
Dyck  in  any  pose,  but  I  shall  not  do  it. 
It  is  atrocious  the  way  people  flatter 
you.  Why  were  you  so  silent  this  af- 
ternoon when  those  tiresome  people 
were  here?  You  would  not  help  out  a 
bit.  I  take  it  ill  that  you  didn't  bring 
your  Viking  along  to  do  me  his  de- 
voir." 

"  My  Viking  again.  Oh,  now  I  have 
it!" 

"  I  should  think  so  indeed,  Dr. 
Tiffany.  Who  is  coming  in  now?  I 
thought  it  was  too  late  for  any  more 
42 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

calls."  Mrs.  O'Brien  rose  and  moved 
to  a  point  where  she  could  command 
a  view  of  the  hall.  "  What  a  coinci- 
dence," she  murmured,  turning  back 
to  Dr.  Tiffany;  "  he  has  come  of  him- 
self." 

"  The  Reverend  William  Cameron 
Dane?  " 

"  Yes,  if  that  is  the  name  of  your 
new  coadjutor."  There  was  a  pause, 
then  with  unfeigned  surprise  the  lady 
added,  "  How  very  odd!  Why  has  he 
gone  up-stairs?  ' 

"  Sit  down,  dear  Mrs.  O'Brien. 
Dane  is  here  plainly  in  the  pursuit  of 
his  calling.  Let  us  enjoy  the  situation 
together.  There  is  a  certain  delicate 
irony  in  it  as  I  conceive  it.  Will  you 
give  me  another  cup  of  tea?  r 

"  Certainly,  but  you  ought  to  go 
home  and  get  ready  for  your  Stoics. 
It  is  half  past  six  and  Miss  Tiffany 
will  be  in  a  state,  I  should  think." 

43 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Very  probably,"  said  Dr.  Tif- 
fany, deliberately  helping  himself  to 
cream.  "  Listen  now.  Young  Dane, 
as  you  know,  is  the  new  assistant  pas- 
tor of  Calvary.  He  comes  fresh  from 
the  divinity  school,  fresh  from  his 
graduation,  fresh  from  everything.  He 
may  not  know  life  yet  but  he  desires 
intelligently  to  do  so,  also  to  work 
himself  to  death  for  the  good  of  the 
parish,— an  amiable  weakness  of  his 
youth.  The  excellent  Miss  Motte,  who 
until  recently,  as  you  know,  helped  me 
in  certain  departments  of  my  work 
which  she  has  now  dropped,  left  copi- 
ous notebooks  for  the  use  of  her  suc- 
cessor,—tabulated  lists  of  the  Lame, 
the  Halt,  and  the  Blind,  the  worthy 
and  the  incorrigible  Poor,  the  Shut-in, 
the  Outlaw,  the  Backslider!  My  con- 
scientious Sea-King,  my  Dane,  observe, 
tackles  these  notes  with  a  perfect  fury 
of  good  intention.  He  will  do  up  the 
44 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

whole  parish  before  the  Fourth  of  July 
I  am  confident,  and  be  able  to  go  fish- 
ing for  a  holiday.  But  now  the  point 
is  this,  I  gather:  near  the  head  of  the 
list  of  Shut-ins  Miss  Motte  doubtless 
wrote  the  name  of  Matthew  O'Brien. 
Dane  figures  to  himself  with  his  fertile 
but  unlucky  imagination  some  Salva- 
tion Army  product— 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure!  He  would  fancy 
Matt  an  Irish  Catholic  convert  some- 
where in  the  slums,  wouldn't  he?  ' 

"  Precisely.  Thinking  to  get  a  hard 
job  over,  you  see,  Dane  hastens  to 
Ridge  Road,  expecting  to  find  a  slum, 
to  call  at  the  tenement  of  one  Matthew 
O'Brien  and  read,  pray  or  play  check- 
ers with  him  as  circumstances  shall 
appear  to  dictate." 

Dr.  Tiffany,  with  a  smile  of  cynical 
enjoyment  of  the  situation,  had  risen 
and  walked  slowly  toward  the  hall 
door,  his  hostess  beside  him. 

45 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  And  he  brings  up,"  he  continued, 
lowering  his  voice  which  was  mellow 
with  silent  laughter,—"  here,"  and  he 
made  a  significant  gesture  indicating 
the  sumptuous  interior,  "  and  with 
Matt!  Picture  his  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing." 

Mrs.  O'Brien  did  not  smile.  For  a 
little  space  she  made  no  reply,  and  a 
cloud  of  care  rested  visibly  on  her  face. 

"  How    he    will    bore    Matt,"    she 
sighed.     "  If   only   he— if   any   one- 
could  help!  " 

"It  is  perfectly  possible  that  he 
can,"  replied  the  clergyman,  with  a 
swift  change  of  mood  to  meet  hers; 
"  he  is  a  good  lad,  and  will  do  his  best, 
you  can  depend.  God  grant  that  by 
him,  since  not  by  me,  some  message  of 
hope  and  comfort  may  come  to  Matt." 

The  last  sentence  was  spoken  with 
the  tender  solemnity  of  a  benediction. 
Dr.  Tiffany  had  been  Mrs.  O'Brien's 
46 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

pastor  since  her  girlhood.  Her  lips 
trembled  piteously. 

"It  is  too  late  to  hope  for  a  thing 
like  that,"  she  murmured.  "  He  grows 
more  bitter,  more  despondent  all  the 
while." 

"  Courage,  dear  child,"  he  said,  and 
laid  his  hand  for  a  moment  on  her 
drooping  head.  Then  the  house  door 
closed  upon  him  and  she  was  left  alone. 
Turning  she  walked  slowly  the  length 
of  the  hall,  a  sense  within  her  of  some 
sudden  influx  of  heart  and  hope.  In 
moments  like  this  Warner  Tiffany,  at 
other  times  cynic,  bon  viveur,  even 
worldling  as  he  seemed,  became  wholly 
the  spiritual  master  and  exerted  over 
her  an  irresistible  religious  authoritj^. 
Her  husband,  she  knew  perfectly, 
would  ascribe  this  to  psychic  rather 
than  to  spiritual  power;  but  he  was 
never  fair  to  Dr.  Tiffany.  Mrs.  O'Brien 
wondered  vaguely  why,  as  she  passed 

47 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

up    the    stairs    and    knocked    at    his 
door. 

Upon  her  entrance  a  broad-shoul- 
dered, fair-haired  young  fellow,  whom 
she  had  not  inaptly  styled  "  the  Vi- 
king," rose  promptly  and  was  pre- 
sented to  her  by  Mr.  O'Brien  as  his 
"  ghostly  counsellor." 

"  I  have  a  chaplain  of  my  own  now, 
Cornie,"  he  added.  "  I  shall  ask  no 
more  of  Tiffany.  Excuse  us  if  we  go 
on  for  a  moment  longer  about  radium. 
We  shall  be  through  in  a  minute." 

Mrs.  O'Brien,  glad  of  a  quiet  chance 
to  study  Dane's  ensemble  at  leisure, 
took  up  a  magazine  and  subsided  into 
an  easy-chair.  Presently  Dane  con- 
sulting his  watch  rose  to  go,  breaking 
into  his  host's  eager  discussion. 

"  Confess  now,"  said  Mrs.  O'Brien, 
"  that  a  lecture  on  radium  was  not 
what  you  expected  on  this  visit,  Mr. 
Dane." 

48 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  No,  not  exactly.  Still  this  is  my 
first  pastoral  call  and  I  did  not  know 
what  to  expect." 

"  You  were  looking,  however,  for  a 
disabled  mechanic  or  labourer,  shut  up 
in  a  dreary  tenement,— is  it  not  so? 
Am  I  clairvoyant?  ' 

"  You  must  be,'*  cried  Dane  much 
surprised  and  flushing  a  little;  "  but 
how  can  I  have  betrayed  all  this?  I 
fancied  I  was  hiding  my  process  of  re- 
adjustment rather  successfully,  while 
you  it  seems  were  turning  some  species 
of  spiritual  X-ray  upon  the  convolu- 
tions of  my  brain." 

"  A  way  she  has,"  said  Mr.  O'Brien. 
"  I  saw  nothing  of  all  this.  If  you  had 
anything  to  conceal  you  concealed  it 
with  a  diplomacy  which  I  find  disturb- 
ing. I  was  captivated,  Mr.  Dane,  by 
the  idea  that  you  were  absolutely 
straightforward,— one  man,— not  two 
or  twenty  like  most  of  your  profession. 

49 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

To  tell  the  truth  I  am  mortally  tired 
of  your  Protean  prelate  of  the  all- 
things  -  to  -  all  -  men  -  if  -  haply  -  he  - 
may- win-some  type." 

"It  is  at  least  in  my  favour  then 
that  my  diplomacy  was  not  so  subtle  as 
to  deceive  Mrs  O'Brien." 

"  Mrs.  O'Brien  is  accustomed  to  the 
society  of  a  clerical  Macchiavelli, " 
said  Matt,  bitterness  in  his  irony. 

"  I  wish  to  welcome  you  to  our 
church,  Mr.  Dane,  and  especially  to  our 
home;  '  Mrs.  O'Brien  spoke  hastily, 
almost  as  if  to  cover  her  husband's 
remark,  and  added  with  imperious  em- 
phasis, "  and  you  will  let  me  congrat- 
ulate you  sincerely  upon  coming  into 
this  intimate  relation  with  Dr.  Tiffany. 
He  has  been  my  pastor  for  ten  years 
and  I  think  him  a  very  wonderful 
man." 

"  Is  he  not!  "  cried  Dane,  his  face 
suddenly  touched  with  generous  en- 

50 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

thusiasm.  "  It  is  the  greatest  honour 
and  the  greatest  privilege  I  have  ever 
had  to  work  under  his  direction." 

Matthew  O'Brien's  face  as  he  lis- 
tened wore  a  sneer,  which  rendered 
his  disfigured  features  almost  devilish. 
Dane's  face  was  turned  away  from  the 
invalid  chair. 

"It  is  certainly  a  liberal  education 
to  come  under  the  influence  of  such  a 
man,"  responded  Mrs.  O'Brien  seri- 
ously. 

A  sardonic  but  half  audible  Amen 
came  from  the  chair's  recesses. 

11  How  well  the  church  is  organ- 
ized," continued  Dane;  "  Miss  Hill  is 
a  most  efficient  worker,  and  Miss 
Motte,  the  other  assistant,  I  judge 
from  the  way  she  has  laid  out  the  work 
left  behind  for  me,  must  be  a  woman 
of  the  same  order." 

Mrs.  O'Brien  smiled. 

"  Possibly    you    will    have    to    go 

51 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

through  another  process  of  readjust- 
ment when  you  meet  Miss  Motte.  She 
is  somewhat  younger  than  Miss  Hill." 

"  Mr.  Dane,  they  are  about  as  much 
alike,"  interposed  Matt,  with  clear-cut 
emphasis,  "  as  the  Blue  Grotto  at 
Capri  and  a  box  stall.  The  Hill  is  as 
interesting  as  the  latter;  the  Motte— 
well,  the  Motte  is  a  mystery." 

Mrs.  O'Brien  laughed  although  with 
a  touch  of  constraint. 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  think  what  you 
mean,  Matt.  Mr.  Dane,  poor  Miss 
Motte  is  nothing  of  the  kind.  She  is 
simply  a  good  Christian  girl  working 
hard  for  her  living." 


"y^vH,   Dr.    Tiffany,   how   glad   I 
I       1  am  not  to  have  missed  you!  ' 
^^      With  this  breathless  excla- 
mation   Miss    Motte    intercepted    the 
clergyman  on  his  way  home  from  the 
0  'Briens. 

"  You  flatter  me,  Miss  Motte,"  he 
responded  with  an  amused  smile.  "  At 
my  age  a  man  may  take  heart  of  grace 
when  a  charming  girl  runs  to  overtake 
him  and  thanks  high  heaven  in  the 
market-place  that  she  has  found  him. 
What  has  happened  to  advance  my 
value  so  suddenly?  ' 

"  Oh,  please,  don't  take  time  to 
droll.  I  am  in  such  a  hurry.  There  is 
something  terrible  going  on  down  at 
the  Point,  at  the  Duffys';  Katy  has 

53 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

sent  me  a  note  imploring  instant  help. 
Her  father  must  be  at  his  very  worst. 
The  message  came  quite  an  hour  ago 
and  not  one  thing  is  done  yet.  I  knew 
I  ought  not  to  go  there  alone,  so  I  went 
first  for  Miss  Hill." 

11  And  she  is  out  of  town." 

"  Yes.  Then  I  went  to  your  house 
and  Miss  Tiffany  was  expecting  you 
every  moment,  but  thought  you  might 
be  at  Mr.  O'Brien's." 

"  Gratuitous  presumption  on  Lau- 
ra's part,"  commented  Dr.  Tiffany 
lightly.  "  Well,  precisely  what  is  your 
thought,  my  little  friend?  " 

"  I  cannot  go  there  alone,  can  I?  ' 
Noelle   asked,   her  dark   eyes   full   of 
reproachful  appeal.    "  I  supposed  you 
would  go  with  me." 

"  Unluckily    I    can't.      The    Stoics 
meet  with  me  to-night;— in  fact,  they 
must   be   meeting   themselves   at   my 
house  this  minute." 
54 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Dr.  Tiffany's  impassiveness  fanned 
Noelle's  eagerness  to  white  heat. 

"  But  Katy's  life  is  in  danger!  "  she 
cried,  "  What  is  a  Club  meeting  at 
such  a  time?  ' 

Dr.  Tiffany  smiled. 

"  I  have  not  the  smallest  idea  that 
the  danger  is  such  as  you  imagine. 
Katy  is  a  hysterical  little  Irish  girl, 
a  good  deal  of  a  goose  anyway.  Her 
father  is  not  so  bad  as  he  is  painted. 
She  likes  to  work  up  a  sensation  to  call 
you  down  there." 

"  You  have  not  seen  Duffy  when  he 
was  drunk  enough  to  make  him  sheer 
devil.  I  know  this  case  better  than 
you  do,  Dr.  Tiffany.  But  no  matter, 
I  can  go  alone,"  and  Noelle  turned 
away,  deeply  offended,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing their  indignation. 

"  Don't  leave  me  in  anger,  my  child. 
I  have  an  escort  ready  for  you  on  the 
spot.  The  Cub  is  coming.  He  has  just 

55 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

turned  the  corner  of  Madison  Street 
coming  also  from  shepherding  the 
O'Briens.  He  looks  to  me  capable  of 
knocking  Duffy  out  on  the  first  round. 
Holloa,  Dane,  see  here,  please!  ' 

A  moment  later  Dane  had  joined 
them.  A  few  words  of  introduction 
and  explanation  followed,  upon  which 
the  young  man  declared  himself  more 
than  ready  to  fly  to  the  rescue  of  Katy 
Duffy. 

Noelle  waited  for  nothing  more,  but 
made  a  dash  for  the  next  street  car, 
followed  by  Dane,  Dr.  Tiffany  being 
left  to  pursue  his  apparently  un- 
troubled way.  In  reality  he  had  been 
seized  with  keen  annoyance  upon  catch- 
ing Dane's  sudden  change  of  expression 
as  he  met  Noelle. 

"  Doubtless    the    youngster    thinks 

himself   in   dead   luck,"   growled   the 

older  man  to  himself,  "  and  so  he  is. 

What  an  idiot  I  was  to  give  him  such 

56 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

a  lead.  Hang  the  Stoics!  Hang 
Duffy!  Above  all  hang  Dane!  ' 

Noelle  occupied  the  first  ten  minutes 
of  the  long  run  on  the  street  car  in 
giving  Dane  the  main  points  in  the 
miserable  story  of  Katy  Duffy  and  her 
brutal  and  intemperate  father.  By  the 
time  this  was  done  an  acquaintance 
was  in  some  sort  established  between 
them.  They  settled  into  silence  to 
draw  conclusions. 

Noelle 's  first  impression  of  William 
Dane,  in  the  midst  of  all  her  perturba- 
tion, was  an  echo  from  an  old  ballad, 
— "  with  an  eye  that  takes  the  breath." 
That  Dr.  Tiffany's  new  assistant 
should  be  a  manly  looking  fellow  of 
pleasing  cut  and  colouring  would  not 
have  interested  her  especially;  but 
when  had  she  seen  that  look  in  a  man's 
eyes  of  lofty  purity  and  consecration? 
Not  since  death  had  hidden  from  her 
her  father's  eyes.  She  almost  feared 

57 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

to  meet  his  glance,  for  the  strange  dis- 
quietude it  brought  her. 

In  her  imperious  intensity  and  the 
singular  tropical  richness  of  her  col- 
ouring, Noelle  had  struck  Dane  at  first 
flush  as  being  like  some  brilliant  for- 
eign princess,  but  now  as  they  sat 
quietly  side  by  side  in  the  dingy  car 
she  became  a  wholly  different  being  in 
his  eyes. 

In  her  dark  woollen  working  dress, 
its  bit  of  braiding  worn  and  faded, 
in  the  much  mended  gloves,  the  com- 
monplace little  hat  and  jacket,  he 
discerned  care  and  economy;  while  in 
her  face  as  she  recounted  to  him  the 
sorrows  of  her  Irish  protegee,  he  found 
the  artless  unconsciousness  of  a  child 
mingled  with  the  directness  of  a 
wholly  sincere  nature.  The  fantastic 
impression  of  the  foreign  princess 
faded  away  and  beside  him  sat  a  slen- 
der girl  in  humble  working  clothes 
58 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

with  a  certain  pathos  in  her  velvety 
eyes,  to  be  sure,  and  a  witchery  about 
her  short  red  upper  lip,  but  just  a 
simple  American  working  girl  as  Mrs. 
O'Brien  had  described  her.  Why  was 
it  that  in  her  working  girl  character 
Miss  Motte  made  so  much  more  power- 
ful appeal  to  his  imagination,  he  asked 
himself,  than  in  her  brilliant  first  im- 
pression? 

The  car,  empty  now  of  all  passengers 
save  themselves,  swayed  around  a 
curve,  bumped  over  two  or  three 
switches,  slowed  down  and  came  to  a 
standstill.  Noelle  hastened  to  lead  the 
way  by  a  rough  and  narrow  path  skirt- 
ing a  cove  of  stagnant  water,  sullen  in 
the  gathering  dusk.  A  woman  looked 
from  the  door  of  a  solitary  house  and 
spoke  to  the  girl  as  they  passed. 

"  It's  high  time  somebody  come  and 
I'm  glad  it's  you,  Miss  Motte,"  she 
cried.  "  I  don't  like  the  look  of  things 

59 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

down  there  to  Duffy's.  Katy  threw 
that  note  out  the  window  to  Libbie  this 
mornin'  and  I  hain't  seen  nothin'  of 
the  poor  thing  sence.  Before  that  he 
was  beatin'  her  awful  and  Lib  says 
she's  locked  herself  into  a  closet  to 
keep  out  of  reach.  No  one  don't  dare 
to  interfere  with  him  when  he's  like 
this." 

"  Hurry,"  Noelle  cried  to  Dane. 
"  She  may  be  dead  or  worse  before 
we  can  reach  her." 

She  pointed  onward,  along  the  low, 
straggling  neck  of  land  where,  from 
the  window  of  a  rambling  barrack-like 
house,  an  abandoned  tavern,  a  dull 
light  flickered. 

"  That  is  the  place.  Please  realize, 
Mr.  Dane,  that  we  must  be  quick  and 
careful.  Duffy  is  a  violent  and  dan- 
gerous man  at  times.  You  cannot 
argue  with  him  or  oppose  him.  He  is 
base  through  and  through." 
60 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

They  had  turned  now  into  the  dark, 
shadowy  yard. 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  said  Dane  ur- 
gently. "  This  can  be  no  proper  place 
for  you.  I  shall  go  in  alone.  You 
must  let  me." 

"  I  have  to  go,"  said  the  girl  simply. 
"  My  poor  Katy  would  not  know  the 
voice  of  a  stranger.  She  has  learned 
to  fear." 

Trying  the  house  door  they  found  it 
unlocked  and  stepped  quietly  into  a 
long,  bare  corridor  running  back  into 
dim  regions.  Light  showed  under  a 
closed  door  immediately  at  the  left  as 
they  entered.  Dane  opened  it  and  they 
both  stepped  across  the  threshold.  A 
woman  in  a  showy  velvet  mantle  and 
plumed  hat  sat  alone  beside  an  un- 
covered table  on  which  stood  empty 
glasses  and  a  candle  in  a  greasy  tin 
candlestick.  The  air  was  heavy  with 
foul  odours  of  whiskey  and  tobacco. 
61 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Noelle  looked  fixedly  at  this  woman 
sitting  solitary  and  waiting  in  the  va- 
cant room  and  her  face  grew  stern. 
Without  rising,  the  woman  spoke  with 
a  hard  and  impudent  assurance. 

"  Good  evening.  I  suppose  you  can 
set  down  if  you  can  find  seats  that 
ain't  too  dusty.  My,  ain't  it  horrid 
here?  I  ain't  used  to  such  places  my- 
self. I  hope  Duffy  won't  keep  you 
folks  waiting  as  long  as  he  has  me.  I 
come  down  to  look  up  a  girl  of  his  they 
said  wanted  to  hire  out  to  do  waitress 
work.  My  waitress  she  up  and  left  me 
last  week,  so  I  thought  I'd  see  about 
this  Duffy  girl.  But  likely  as  not  she 
won't  be  no  good  when  I  get  her." 

Noelle  in  silence  made  a  sign  to 
Dane.  They  stepped  back  into  the 
corridor  and  closed  the  door.  Through 
the  gloom  he  could  see  that  she  had 
grown  pale  and  that  her  eyes  were 
wide  and  appalled. 
62 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Matte 

"  I  know  who,  what— that  woman 
is,"  she  whispered.  "  Nothing  could 
be  worse  unless  we  had  come  too  late. 
Listen!  " 

From  the  depths  of  a  passage  which 
crossed  the  corridor  at  the  rear  of  the 
house  the  sound  of  a  hoarse,  harsh 
voice  reached  them.  Noelle  placed  her 
hand  in  his. 

"  Come  softly,"  she  whispered. 
"  We  are  descending  into  hell,"  she 
added  solemnly. 

The  touch  of  her  hand  fired  Dane's 
heart  and  thrilled  him  with  an  exultant 
joy  in  the  midst  of  the  hideous  sur- 
roundings. He  did  not  ask  her  to  go 
back  now.  He  knew  her  better.  As 
well  ask  an  angel  to  go  back  when  a 
soul  was  to  save.  Besides,  were  not 
heaven  and  he  strong  to  protect  her? 

They  turned  at  the  end  of  the  cor- 
ridor and  stopped.  At  the  foot  of  the 
passage  before  a  door  stood  a  man  of 

63 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

shambling  figure  with  coarse,  unkempt 
hair,  a  tool  of  some  kind  in  one  hand, 
a  leather  thong  hanging  from  the 
other.  On  the  floor  a  candle  guttered 
and  flickered.  Their  approach  was  im- 
perceived. 

"  You  unlock  that  door  now  this 
minute." 

Something  sinister  in  the  menace  of 
the  harsh  whisper  made  Noelle  faint 
for  a  few  seconds. 

"  You  needn't  think  you  can  fool 
me,  locking  yerself  up  in  the  closet. 
IVe  found  my  chisel  now  and  that 
lock '11  be  picked  inside  half  a  minute. 
When  it's  busted  open  you're  going  to 
git  such  a  hiding  as '11  make  you  wish 
you'd  never  ben  born." 

Again  silence,  but  it  was  broken  by 
a  long,  sobbing  wail  from  within  the 
closet.  Dane  felt  Noelle  clinging  hard 
to  his  arm;  her  breath  came  quick 
against  his  cheek. 

64 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  If  you'll  be  a  good  girl,  Katy," 
again  came  the  whisper,  but  this  time 
in  a  coaxing  whine,  "  I  won't  lay  a 
hand  on  you.  Just  you  unlock  the 
door  and  come  out  and  go  with  the 
lady  now.  Here  she's  ben  and  come 
herself  all  the  way  down  here  after 
you.  She'll  treat  you  fine.  You  won't 
have  to  do  a  lick  of  work." 

"  Stay  where  you  are." 

Dane  spoke  to  Noelle  in  a  quick,  im- 
perative undertone,  withdrawing  his 
sleeve  from  her  unconscious  clinging 
hand.  With  a  few  strides  he  was  at 
the  spot  where  Duffy  stood. 

"  Look  here,"  he  called  in  a  loud 
voice. 

Turning  swiftly  in  surprise,  Duffy 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  tall, 
threatening  figure. 

"  It's  time  you  quit  that  now,  Mr. 
Duffy,"  he  said.  "  Let  the  child  alone. 
You  have  tormented  her  enough." 

65 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Wlio  are  you,  I  should  like  to 
know?  "  shouted  Duffy  in  fury,  squar- 
ing off  instinctively  for  a  fight  and 
raising  his  hand  in  which  the  chisel 
was  clenched. 

Before  he  could  move  or  speak  again 
a  blow  from  Dane's  fist  square  between 
the  eyes  knocked  him  to  the  floor, 
breath  and  sight  and  sense  gone  out  of 
him  for  the  moment. 

"  Now,  Miss  Motte,  if  you  please!  ' 

Dane  spoke  with  almost  gay  com- 
posure. In  an  instant  Noelle's  lips 
were  at  the  keyhole  of  the  locked 
closet  door. 

"  Katy,  Katy,"  she  called  softly. 
"  This  is  Miss  Motte.  Come  out  quick. 
Hurry.  You  are  to  come  home  with 
me." 

A  wild  cry  broke  from  behind  the 
door;  then  the  key  turned  in  the  lock 
and  the  figure  of  a  young  girl,  trem- 
bling and  cowering,  came  into  view. 
66 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Taking  her  hand  without  the  delay  of 
a  second,  Noelle  drew  the  terrified  child 
to  her  side  and  fled  with  her  from  the 
house,  Dane  following. 

Realizing  that  they  would  attract  at- 
tention in  a  car,  they  made  their  way 
on  foot  from  the  Point  by  a  network 
of  unfamiliar  streets  to  Gore  Terrace. 

"  This  is  our  home,  Mr.  Dane,"  said 
Noelle  as  they  stopped  breathless  at 
the  door  of  78.  "  Thank  you.  You 
have  saved  Katy,  perhaps  me  as  well," 
and  she  gave  him  her  hand.  Without 
reply  he  hurried  away,  bound  for  the 
precinct  police  station  to  enter  com- 
plaint against  Duffy  and  ensure  Katy's 
safety  from  further  brutalities. 

When  Miss  Motte  reached  her  own 
room,  having  deposited  Katy  in  her 
mother's  hands,  it  is  a  curious  fact  that 
the  first  thing  she  did  was  to  look  at 
her  own  face  for  several  seconds  in  a 
small  mirror.  This,  instead  of  a  suit- 
67 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

able  swoon  or  falling  on  her  knees  in 
prayer,  proves  Miss  Motte  to  be  no  true 
and  well  developed  heroine. 

A  few  days  later  Dane  called  at  the 
small  house  in  Gore  Terrace  to  inquire 
for  Miss  Motte  and  Katy. 

He  saw  only  Mrs.  Motte,  who  was 
gently,  delicately  courteous.  Neverthe- 
less, he  came  away  convinced  that 
his  visit  was  unwelcome.  At  least,  he 
was  not  asked  to  repeat  it. 


68 


VI 

ON  the  first  Sunday  of  May  Dr. 
Tiffany  opened  the  church 
building  campaign  to  the  Cal- 
vary congregation  in  form  with  a  tre- 
mendous sermon  from  the  text,  "  In 
the  name  of  our  God  will  we  set  up  our 
banners."  He  was  able  to  announce 
that,  through  the  magnificent  generos- 
ity of  one  man,  a  lot  had  been  given 
in  the  most  desirable  part  of  Ridge 
Road,  a  site  on  the  whole  surpassing 
that  of  any  ecclesiastical  edifice  in  the 
city  and  worth  at  the  lowest  valuation 
thirty  thousand  dollars.  The  plans,  al- 
ready drawn  by  one  of  the  most  fa- 
mous of  New  York  architects,  called 
for  a  building  of  stone  from  base  to 
turret  top,  a  church  which  might  cost 
69 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

nearly  a  hundred  and  sixty  thousand. 
This  was  a  conservative  estimate,  but 
what  if  it  should  run  over?  Like  him 
of  old  the  people  of  Calvary  had  it  in 
their  heart  to  say,  "  I  will  not  pay  my 
vows  unto  the  Lord  my  God  of  that 
which  doth  cost  me  nothing." 

At  the  close  of  service  Dane,  who 
had  listened  to  the  sermon  of  his  su- 
perior with  loyal  enthusiasm  as  had 
the  people,  met  Mr.  Samuel  Search,  the 
donor  of  the  building  lot.  Dane  was 
distinctly  surprised  at  the  personality 
of  the  noble  and  generous  giver.  Mr. 
Search,  a  small  man  with  a  red  face 
and  prominent,  unsteady  eyes,  stood 
leaning  against  the  end  of  a  pew,  his 
hands  thrust  deep  in  his  pockets,  glan- 
cing from  one  to  another  of  the  half- 
incredulous  faces  clustered  around  him 
with  a  smile  touched  by  a  trace  of  ma- 
liciousness. 

"  Yes,  sir,  yes,  sir/'  he  repeated, 
70 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  I've  set  the  pace  and  now  it's  up  to 
you  fellows  to  keep  it  up.  I  always 
like  to  rejoice  the  hearts  of  the  breth- 
ren and  promote  the  cause  by  a  good 
example.  I  may  not  be  much  on  the 
devotional,  but  when  it  comes  to  the 
real  thing  I  guess  you  find  me  on  the 
spot  every  time.  But  you  want  to 
notice  what  a  lot  on  Ridge  Road  calls 
for!  The  rest  of  you  will  have  a 
chance  to  do  your  little  part.  Mr. 
Dane?  The  pastor's  new  assistant? 
Glad  to  meet  you,  sir.  Well,  yes,  we 
have  made  a  little  start  to-day,  but  the 
start  isn't  as  important  as  the  finish. 
There'll  be  a  stiff  tug  yet.  The  fact  is, 
Mr.  Dane,  our  church  has  got  to  hustle 
if  it's  going  to  try  to  keep  up  with  the 
procession  here  in  Pemberton,  and 
there  isn't  much  use  trying  to  do  busi- 
ness unless  you've  got  a  first  class 
plant.  We've  got  to  aim  high  or  give 
up  beat." 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Dane  came  away  presently  with  a 
wretched  soreness  of  spirit. 

Two  Sundays  later  the  pastor  of  Cal- 
vary Church  appeared  before  his  peo- 
ple with  a  countenance  charged  with 
impressive  solemnity  and  made  a  pow- 
erful appeal  to  them  from  the  text, 
"  They  that  are  Christ's  have  crucified 
the  flesh  with  the  affections  and  lusts/7 
If  the  opening  sermon  in  the  new  en- 
terprise had  seemed  to  be  savoured  by 
a  faint  tincture  of  worldliness  it  was 
neutralized  by  the  profound  spiritual 
fervour  of  this.  The  work  of  Christ 
could  only  be  carried  on  under  suitable 
conditions.  The  crisis  for  Calvary's 
very  life  demanded  the  new  church;  it 
was  a  time  for  deep  spiritual  proving; 
let  every  man  examine  himself  whether 
he  had  indeed  crucified  the  flesh  and 
given  or  pledged  his  part  toward  the 
glorious  work  down  to  the  real  quick 
of  self-sacrifice. 

72 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

On  the  following  day  Dane  made  a 
round  of  parish  calls  which  chanced 
to  take  him  among  the  humbler  fami- 
lies of  the  parish  on  quiet,  unpretend- 
ing streets.  During  these  calls  he  was 
met  again  and  again  by  expressions  of 
discouragement  and  anxiety  concern- 
ing the  new  church. 

"  What  can  we  do?  "  asked  the  wife 
of  a  school  teacher.  "  We  have  but 
twelve  hundred  dollars  a  year  to  live 
on  and  these  three  little  children. 
Everything  is  so  dear  now  that  it 
seems  impossible  even  to  keep  the 
weekly  bills  paid.  We  want  to  do  our 
part  and  are  trying  hard,  but  I  wonder 
when  Dr.  Tiffany  preaches  to  us  as  he 
did  Sunday,  on  sacrificing  down  to  the 
quick,  if  he  knows  what  it  must  really 
mean— what  can  it,  but  not  to  have 
enough  for  your  children  to  eat?  " 

Dane  wondered  too.  He  thought  of 
the  seven  course  dinners  which  Dr.  Tif- 

73 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

fany  was  fond  of  giving.  He  was  be- 
ginning to  wonder  more  and  more. 
Whispers  had  not  been  slow  in  reach- 
ing him  as  to  the  financial  practices 
of  Mr.  Samuel  Search,  even  as  to  his 
personal  morality.  He  had  come  to 
Pemberton  with  a  species  of  hero-wor- 
ship for  Dr.  Tiffany  as  a  prime  spiri- 
tual and  intellectual  force.  Was  it  to 
suffer  shock? 

On  his  way  home  he  passed  the  foot 
of  Gore  Terrace  and  found  himself 
irresistibly  drawn  to  turn  his  steps  to 
Noelle's  cottage.  Perhaps  he  had  im- 
agined Mrs.  Motte 's  coldness.  At  his 
ringing  Noelle  herself  came  to  the 
door,  and  the  light  which  involuntarily 
leaped  into  her  face  flooded  his  heart 
with  balm.  The  girl  in  a  fresh  cot- 
ton gown  and  dainty  white  apron 
gave  an  effect  of  housewifeliness,— a 
new  aspect  of  her  which  enchanted 
him. 

74 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

He  was  bidden  to  enter  the  little 
parlour  and  for  a  few  moments  they 
sat  alone  together,  a  sense  of  intimate 
seclusion  strong  upon  them,  for  the 
night  of  their  descent  into  hell  together 
had  revealed  them  each  to  the  other  as 
months  of  ordinary  acquaintance  could 
not  have  done. 

"  I  was  disappointed  in  not  seeing 
you  when  I  called  to  inquire,"  he  said, 
his  eyes  full  upon  her  as  she  found 
when  she  lifted  her  own. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  been 
here,"  she  replied  in  surprise.  "  I 
wondered  a  little,  --  Katy  has  not 
learned  all  her  duties  yet.  She  has 
become  our  little  maid,  you  know." 

"  It  was  Mrs.  Motte  whom  I  saw," 
Dane  replied;  then,  as  a  swift  shade 
of  perplexity  crossed  Noelle's  face,  he 
wished  he  had  kept  the  fact  to  himself. 
"  But  I  do  not  wonder  she  did  not  re- 
member. I  did  not  even  come  in,  being 

75 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

in  a  hurry.  I  should  have  come  every 
day  since— to  inquire,  you  know— if  I 
had  dared." 

Noelle  laughed  joyously,  although 
plainly  there  was  nothing  to  laugh  at. 
"  Every  day  would  be  a  little  often," 
she  said  demurely. 

"  For  you,  yes,  but  not  for  me. 
There  is  so  much  to  learn  from  you— 

"  Oh,  about  the  church  work?  I 
will  be  glad  to  explain  anything  I 
can." 

"  Really,  will  you?  May  I  talk  my 
work  over  with  you  sometimes?  Hon- 
estly, I  am  needing  light  more  than 
you  can  think.  I  am  sure  you  could 
reconcile— 

"  Mr.  Dane?    Good  afternoon." 

Mrs.  Motte  had  entered  the  room 
noiselessly  and  bowed  to  the  visitor 
with  an  air  of  intense  reserve,  her  face 
so  wan  as  to  be  spectral. 

"  What  is  it,  Maman?  "  cried  Noelle. 
76 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  When  you  are  at  liberty  I  shall  be 
glad  to  see  you,  Noelle." 

Dane  took  his  hat  and  departed  with- 
out delay. 


77 


VII 

THE  first  social  function  entered 
into  by  Mrs.  Matthew  O'Brien 
on  her  return  from  her  seashore 
villa  in  October  was  a  small  dinner. 

Like  most  dinners  this  one  repre- 
sented a  variety  of  purposes.  Mrs. 
O'Brien's  purposes-in-chief  were  to 
further  an  acquaintance  between  Mr. 
Dane  and  Miss  Adelaide  Search,  in 
accordance  with  a  suggestion  of  Dr. 
Tiffany's,  and  to  bring  Mrs.  Motte  to 
her  house  to  gratify  Matt,  who  had  not 
thus  far  seen  Noelle's  mother  and  had 
a  strong  desire  to  do  so. 

Taking  account  of  the  situation  when 
dinner  was  two  thirds  over,  with  her 
eye  of  practised  social  discrimination 
Mrs.  Motte  perceived  that  Miss  Search 
was  frost  to  Noelle  and  Noelle  ice  to 
her;  that  Dane  was  of  intention  de- 

78 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

voted  to  Miss  Search  but  that  no  word 
spoken  by  Noelle  was  lost  upon  him; 
that  little  Mrs.  Motte  in  her  clinging 
crepe  and  tiny  bands  of  lawn  was  scor- 
ing a  success  on  every  side  with  the 
piquant  charm  of  her  personality  and 
of  her  slightly  foreign  manner  and 
speech;  that  Noelle  had  grown  thin 
and  pale  through  the  summer  and  that 
on  her  face  was  an  indefinable  impress 
of  suffering. 

Dinner  over  Mrs.  Motte  was  con- 
ducted up-stairs  to  Mr.  O'Brien's  li- 
brary to  make  the  long  desired  ac- 
quaintance; Miss  Search  was  bound  a 
captive  in  chains  to  the  piano  by  the 
flattering  importunity  of  the  hostess, 
who  sotto  voce  gave  an  imperious  order 
to  Mr.  Dane  to  show  Miss  Motte  the 
blossoming  century  plant  in  the  con- 
servatory. The  remaining  ten  or 
twelve  guests  sat  in  the  music  room 
at  attention. 

79 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

In  the  shade  of  the  century  plant 
Dane  took  Noelle's  hand  with  a  sudden 
impulse  not  to  be  resisted  and  said  ear- 
nestly, 

It  is  three  months  since  I  have 
seen  you.  You  are  not  well;  something 
in  your  face  breaks  my  heart.  Can  you 
tell  me?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell." 

Noelle  spoke  lightly  but  tears  hung 
heavy  on  her  lashes  at  his  tone. 

"  I  have  had  just  four  notes  from 
you.  They  are  here  always,"  and  he 
touched  his  breast.  "  Have  I  lost 
any?  Have  you  written  more  than 
four?  " 

"  Can  I  remember?  ' 

Noelle's  eyes  said,  however,  "  Can  I 
forget?  " 

"  I  cannot  come  to  the  house  since 
I  feel  your  mother's  aversion  to  me. 
Is  there  any  way  in  which  I  can  over- 
come it?  " 

80 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  There  is  no  aversion  to  you  on  her 
part." 

"  What  does  it  mean,  then— her  atti- 
tude? " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  the  girl  fal- 
tered. "It  is  impossible  for  me  to 
explain.  It  would  be  the  same  to  any 
other  man— 

"  Who  cared  for  you?  ' 

A'deep  flush  rose  to  Noelle's  cheeks; 
she  drew  away  her  hand  which  she  had 
suffered  until  now  to  rest  in  his  and 
drew  back,  but  she  did  not  deny. 

"  Noelle,  I  care,  you  know  I  care—' 

"  Dear,  you  must  not  care— it  is 
hopeless." 

Then  she  felt  his  kiss  on  her  fore- 
head and  met  the  worship  in  his  eyes. 

"  Never,— never  again,"  she  whis- 
pered, but  her  eyes  were  aflame  with 
response  to  his  passion.  With  no  other 
word  she  hurried  back  to  the  others 
and  a  little  later  made  an  excuse  to 
81 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

join  her  mother  up-stairs.  She  left 
Dane  bending  with  due  air  of  social 
consecration  at  Miss  Search's  side,  im- 
ploring her  to  play  again,  that  he 
might  have  space  to  taste  again  in  si- 
lence the  sweet  pain  of  those  breath- 
less moments. 

At  the  entrance  of  Mr.  O'Brien's 
dimly  lighted  library,  Miss  Motte  was 
met  by  a  cordial  welcome  from  the 
invalid.  Her  mother  sat  quiet  and  at 
ease  facing  him  but  not  able  to  discern 
his  features  in  the  shadow  of  his  high 
backed  chair. 

"  Be  seated,  Miss  Motte/'  cried 
Matt  in  his  finely  resonant  voice; 
11  Heavens,  how  handsome  you  are  to- 
night! And  how  come  you,  Mademoi- 
selle, by  that  conquering  air?  that 
scarcely  suppressed  aura  of  exultation, 
you,  wont  to  be  gentle  and  submissive? 

"  '  There's  a  language  in  her  eye,  her  lip, 
Nay,  her  foot  speaks  ! ' 

82 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

However,  don't  interrupt  your  mother, 
if  you  please,  with  much  speaking. 
We  are  conversing  eloquently  in 
French,  at  the  moment,  of  the  Hima- 
layas; I  am  doing  particularly  well 
myself.  Continue,  Madame,  if  you 
please." 

Noelle  listened  in  silence  to  their 
conversation,  seeing  her  mother's  en- 
joyment in  her  brightened  eyes,  height- 
ened colour  and  in  a  certain  shy,  flat- 
tered manner  she  wore. 

"  Don't  get  excited,  little  Mere  An- 
gelique,"  she  commented  at  a  pause  in 
their  talking.  "  You  know  you  can't 
stand  much  flattery  without  having 
your  head  turned." 

"  Soyez  tranquille,  petite,"  said  her 
mother  laughing  lightly.  "  I  was 
about  to  say,  Mr.  O'Brien,  that  I  pre- 
fer Darjeeling  myself  to  any  other 
Himalayan  resort.  It  was  our  summer 
home  in  India." 

83 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

11  Oh,  if  I  could  go  back  to  it  to-mor- 
row," cried  Noelle  under  her  breath. 
"  Open  my  heart  and  you  will  see— 
Darjeeling  and  Agra!  ' 

"  So  you  remember  Darjeeling?  v 
Mr.  O'Brien  turned  his  keen  eyes  upon 
the  girl.  "  I  thought  you  told  me  you 
had  no  recollection  of  the  place  where 
you  were  born." 

"  Oh,  of  Mussoorie?  That  is  true. 
I  was  born  in  Mussoorie  but  we  never 
went  there  after  that  year,  did  we, 
Maman?  " 

Mrs.  Motte  shook  her  head. 

"  Oh,  yes,  to  be  sure  it  was  Mus- 
soorie." As  Matt  spoke  he  felt  a  curi- 
ous constraint  and  restlessness  in  Mrs. 
Motte 's  bearing. 

"  I  was  born  on  Christmas  day,  Mr. 
O'Brien,"  said  Noelle,  "  that  is  why 
my  mother  named  me  Noelle.  Come, 
love,"  and  the  girl  rose  as  she  spoke, 
"  it  really  is  not  respectful  to  those 
84 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

people  down  stairs  to  stay  here  any 
longer." 

"  If  you  please,  a  few  moments 
more,"  said  Matt  in  the  tone  of  one 
accustomed  to  be  obeyed.  "  I  have 
something  in  wrhich  I  am  particularly 
interested  to  ask  your  mother  about. 
An  old  student  friend  of  mine  in  Ger- 
many is  coming  to  this  country,  and 
to  Pemberton  curiously  enough  on 
some  matter  of  business,  I  don't  know 
or  care  what.  He  has  been  in  India 
I  am  not  sure  how  many  years  as  a 
medical  missionary,  and  is  a  great  man 
out  there,  I  have  heard.  I  received 
this  letter  telling  of  his  coming  to 
America  last  week  and  it  is  dated 
Agra." 

"  What  is  your  friend's  name,  if  you 
please,  Monsieur?  ' 

The  question  came  abruptly  from 
Mrs.  Motte;  her  voice  was  not  steady. 

"  Hartlieb-Dr.  Emil  Hartlieb.    He 

85 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Matte 

may  not  have  been  in  Agra  when  you 
were  there,  of  course.  I  have  known 
little  of  him  of  recent  years.  Here  is 
an  old  photograph  of  him  as  a  student 
which  I  have  hunted  up.  See  if  you 
recognize  it." 

"  I  have  met  the  gentleman,"  said 
Mrs.  Motte,  rising,  scarcely  glancing 
at  the  photograph. 

Noelle,  taking  her  hand,  found  that 
she  was  trembling  violently. 

"  I  cannot  think  why  he  should  come 
to  Pemberton,"  Mrs.  Motte  added 
rather  to  herself  than  to  her  host,  and 
clasped  her  hands  hard. 

"It  is  curious,  I  think  myself,  but 
I  am  mightily  pleased  over  it.  Hart- 
lieb  was  always  a  capital  fellow.  I 
shall  insist  upon  his  being  my  guest." 

"  I  remember  Dr.  Hartlieb  very 
well,"  Noelle  began,  but  her  mother 
interrupted  her  to  make  her  adieux  to 


86 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Matt   who  reluctantly  accepted   their 
excuses  for  departure. 

"  Will  you  tell  Mr.  Dane,"  he  said 
to  Noelle  as  she  left  the  room,  "  that 
I  expect  a  night  visit?  You  know  I 
never  go  to  bed  before  two  o'clock  and 
Dane  has  become  my  night  crony." 


vin 

AT  eleven  o'clock,  'Boyle  came  in 
bringing  coffee. 

"  Did  you  see  the  little  white 
haired  French  lady,  Boyle? "  Matt 
asked,  carelessly. 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  stayed  a  minute  in  the 
room  just  to  listen  to  her  talking. 
Hasn't  she  the  lively  way  with  her?  ' 

"  Charming,  perfectly  charming.  She 
is  rather  like  her  daughter,  Miss  Motte, 
isn't  she?" 

"  Is  Miss  Motte  that  lady's  daugh- 
ter, Mr.  O'Brien?  " 

Matt  nodded,  stirring  his  coffee  con- 
templatively. "  Certainly,  why  not?  ' 

"  Then,  sir,  the  young  lady  must 
favour  her  father  altogether,  I  should 
say.  Nobody  would  pick  them  out  for 
mother  and  daughter,  sir.  Miss  Motte 
she's  that  dark  skin,  like  velvet,  and 
88 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

the  big  brown  eyes  and  so  tall.  Hon- 
estly speaking  she  is  the  most  wonder- 
ful young  lady  I  ever  set  eyes  on.  I 
stare  at  her  as  if  I  was  bewitched 
every  time  she  comes  here." 

There  was  a  knock  on  the  door  and 
Dane  appeared. 

' '  Holloa, ' '  said  Matt.  ' '  Boyle,  bring 
some  hot  coffee,"  then,  under  his 
breath,—"  I  haven't  a  doubt  she  has 
bewitched  this  man  too.  A  very  de- 
structive little  person  on  the  whole." 

"  What  are  you  muttering  about?  '' 
asked  Dane,  throwing  himself  into  a 
chair. 

"  About  the  mysterious  Miss  Motte." 

"  Miss  Motte  is  not  a  mystery;  she 
is  simply  an  angel." 

"  Oh,  that  was  obvious  always. 
There  is  more  to  it  than  that,  Gossip 
Galahad.  Sit  down,  dear  Father  in 
God,  and  we'll  make  a  night  of  it.  It's 
time  I  went  to  confession." 
89 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  It's  time  you  stopped  calling 
names,  in  my  opinion. ' ' 

"  It  is  writ  clear  on  your  brow  that 
you  were  born  to  be  a  seeker  for  the 
Holy  Grail." 

"  By  no  means.  I  was  born  to  be  a 
shoe  manufacturer." 

Matt  scanned  Dane's  face  with  sar- 
castic yet  sympathetic  attentiveness. 

"  You  look  it!  Yes,  I  have  heard  of 
that  chapter  in  your  life.  I  know  more 
of  that  dark  past  of  yours  than  you 
think,  even  to  the  fact  that  the  fellows 
called  you  Sir  Galahad  in  college  and 
that  you  deliberately  chose  to  sit  in  the 
Siege  Perilous,  thereby  turning  your 
back  on  the  manufacture  of  shoes  and 
a. fortune." 

"  I  have  done  what  scores  of  fellows 
do;  the  Galahad  business  is  pure  non- 
sense. But,  nevertheless,  the  reason  I 
chose  to  preach  is  because  in  the  min- 
istry at  least  to-day,  with  all  the  self- 
90 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

ishness  and  materialism  of  modern  life, 
the  old  ideal  of  Christian  chivalry  does 
live  on,  scoff  if  you  choose.  Listen,  Mr. 
O'Brien,  I  am  right  in  this.  The  man 
who  goes  in  for  this  profession  of  ne- 
cessity disregards  money  and  power 
and  despises  luxury:  he  seeks  to  the 
best  of  his  ability  to  uphold  the  rights 
of  the  weak  and  oppressed;  he  pledges 
himself  to  speak  the  very  truth,  to  suc- 
cour his  brothers  at  arms,  to  be  fair 
to  his  bitter  foe.  What  is  all  this  but 
knighthood?  " 

"  Oh,  Galahad,  and  oh,  Galahad!  " 
quoted  Matt  mournfully.  "  I,  even  I, 
am  fain  to  put  up  a  prayer  that  you 
alone  of  all  men  might  '  bring  back  at 
eve  immaculate  the  colours  of  the 
morn. '  But  it  will  be  at  your  peril  that 
you  remain  at  Calvary  Church."  He 
laughed  sardonically.  "  What  a  faith- 
ful portrait  you  have  drawn  of  Warner 
Tiffany!— how  he  disregards  money 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

and  power  and  despises  luxury!  how 
hard  he  labours  to  uphold  the  rights 
of  the  weak  and  oppressed!  how  he 
speaks  the  very  truth— : 

"  Mr.  O'Brien,  I  cannot  listen  to 
this,"  broke  in  Dane  coldly,  his  face 
grown  very  grave.  He  added  in  a 
matter  of  fact  tone,  "  It  is  a  cause  for 
great  anxiety  to  the  church,  to  me  also, 
that  we  seem  so  likely  to  lose  Dr.  Tif- 
fany." 

"  Do  not  be  disturbed  on  that  score. 
That  call  to  Boston  has  been  carefully 
worked  up  by  Dr.  Tiffany  to  scare  the 
Calvary  people  into  completing  the 
money-raising  for  the  new  church.  He 
has  not  the  smallest  idea  of  leaving 
Pemberton.  He  is  too  fond  of  Mrs. 
O'Brien." 

Dane  made  an  exclamation  of  angry 
disapproval,  rose  and  paced  the  room 
rapidly. 

"  Heavens,  man,"  cried  Matt,  fero- 
92 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

ciously,  "  can't  you  see  that  I  am  in 
the  devil's  own  clutch— no,  you  could 
not  understand,  or— could  you?  ' 

"  Go  on.    I  follow  you." 

"  Far  from  it.  I  dare  say  you  have 
never  known  one  moment  of  agony  in 
mind  or  body,  all  your  life.  You  are 
whole.  Thank  God  for  it.  Look  at 
me!  My  soul  is  in  worse  shape  than 
my  body,  and  that  exquisite  woman— 
my  wife— is  chained  to  both.  No  won- 
der Warner  Tiffany  pities  her  and 
seeks  to  minister  to  her  spiritual  com- 
fort! From  a  woman's  confidential 
doctor  and  a  woman's  confidential  par- 
son, good  Lord  deliver  us!  Yes,  man, 
1  am  jealous  and  jealousy  is  cruel  as 
the  grave.  I  am  jealous  by  nature  and 
grace  has  not  wholly  transformed  me 
yet,"  he  added  with  an  ugly  smile. 

Dane  was  silent. 

"It  is  all  my  own  doing,  the  life 
Mrs.  O'Brien  lives  in  society.  I  sent 

93 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

her  back  into  it  after  I  was  wrecked, 
resorting  to  the  little  fiction  that  only 
by  the  cheering  echoes  of  her  diver- 
sions could  I  be  saved  from  despair. 
She  was  obedient  and  remains  so  to 
this  day.  I  grin,  poor  devil,  over  her 
innocent  conquests  and  flirtations  and 
am  inwardly  devoured  by  jealousy. 
Why  I  don't  take  myself  off:  I  cannot 
tell;  I  think  about  it  day  and  night. 
It  is  really  the  only  decent  thing  for 
a  man  in  my  case  to  do." 

"  False— insanely  false!  Drop  it  if 
you  are  a  man." 

"  But  think  of  a  shape  like  this 
hanging  like  a  mill-stone  around  her 
neck." 

"  Your  real  mistake  is  just  there, 
I  think,"  said  Dane.  "  Your  mind, 
your  self  is  unmarred,  unmaimed. 
Your  wife  can  never  lose  her  pride  in 
you,  this  being  so.  You  have  a  mighty 
stake  to  play  for,  to  train  for:— to  keep 

94 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

sound  and  sane  in  spirit  and  so  com- 
mand your  wife's  love  as  you  have 
thus  far.  She  loves  you  devotedly  and 
rejoices  in  your  great  ability.  No,  I 
do  not  pity  your  wife,  far  from  it." 

"  You  do  not  flirt  with  her  either, 
which  is  more  surprising,"  commented 
Matt  reflectively,  "  since  to  do  so  runs 
in  the  clerical  blood." 

"  Mr.  O'Brien,  let  this  poison  of 
jealousy  go.  Don't  fight  it— reject  it. 
There  is  something  cleaner  and  better 
for  you.  Be  the  man  who  by  the  grace 
of  God  can  wring  good  out  of  infinite 
pain.  There  are  such  men.  They  are 
the  men  who  have  gone  deep  enough 
to  find  at  the  heart  of  the  universe— 
Love.  Good  night,  dear  man,  dear 
friend.  God  be  with  you." 

O'Brien's  face  relaxed. 

"  Very  good,  Galahad.  Said  I  not 
you  were  born  to  be  a  man's  father 
confessor,  not  merely  a  woman's? 

95 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Some  day  you  shall  shrive  me  and 
maybe  I  shall  sleep.  To-night  I  wake, 
unshriven.  Oh,  these  sleepless 
nights!  ' 

"  If  you  wake,  I  watch. " 

Throwing  himself  on  the  sofa  in  the 
corner,  Dane  slept  while  the  invalid 
was  made  ready  for  the  night,  then 
woke  and  prayed  beside  his  bed. 

A  little  later,  Matt  remarked,  "  You 
know  who  Emil  Hartlieb  is?  ' 

"  The  medical  missionary  in  Agra? 
Oh,  yes,  a  truly  great  man  from  what 
I  have  heard." 

"  He  is  coming  to  Pemberton  in  a 
few  weeks,  is  on  his  way  now  from 
India. " 

"  Is  it  so?  That  interests  me  very 
much.  I  should  like  to  see  him  im- 
mensely. I  suppose  he  is  to  give  lec- 
tures on  his  mission?  >: 

"  I  doubt  it.  I  doubt  what  his  mis- 
sion here  may  be.  There  is  one  person 
96 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

in  Pemberton  who  is  not  over  anxious, 
I  judge,  to  see  Hartlieb.    Mrs.  Motte." 
"  And  why  not,  I  wonder?  ' 
"  I  have  not  quite  decided  yet." 


97 


IX 

A  FEW  weeks  later,  early  in  the 
evening,  Dr.  Tiffany,  coming 
from  the  deathbed  of  a  parish- 
ioner, rang  the  bell  at  the  cottage  in 
Gore  Terrace.  Katy  Duffy  opened  the 
door  and  the  visitor  stepped  directly 
into  the  small  parlour.  At  a  glance  his 
eye  took  in  with  gratification  the  Ori- 
ental richness  of  the  interior  in  con- 
trast to  the  external  meanness  of  the 
house,  the  grace  of  Mrs.  Motte  as  she 
sat  in  the  lamplight  with  a  bit  of 
dainty  embroidery,  the  beauty  of  No- 
elle's  face  bent  over  a  book.  Suddenly 
aware  that  some  one  had  entered,  No- 
elle  started  to  rise  but  he  forbade  her 
with  a  gesture. 

"  Be  quiet,  Miss  Motte,  if  you  please. 
Do  not  spoil  the  picture.    Mrs.  Motte, 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

good  evening.  I  beg  you  not  to  rise. 
That  smile  is  welcome  enough  for  a 
prince.  Will  you  let  a  pilgrim,  a  friar 
of  orders  gray,  have  a  seat  at  your  fire- 
side for  a  few  moments?  ' 

Forthwith  he  seated  himself  in  a 
deep  wicker  lounging  chair  and,  lean- 
ing back,  closed  his  eyes.  Noelle  saw 
that  his  face  wore  the  stern  yet  tender 
solemnity  which  she  had  often  noted 
in  it  when  he  came  from  the  presence 
of  death. 

"  You  have  been  at  the  Butlers'?  " 
she  asked  gently. 

"Tee." 

"  Is  George  alive  still?  " 

"  No.  He  died  less  than  an  hour 
ago." 

"  You  are  tired,  Dr.  Tiffany?  ': 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  it.  Possi- 
bly/' 

"  You  have  had  no  dinner." 

"  A  mere  detail." 

99 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  But  really,— it  will  not  do,  you 
know.  What  may  I  get  you?  ' 

"  I  should  like  some  coffee— nothing 
more.  Is  it  too  much  trouble?  ' 

"  You  know  it  is  not." 

"  Dr.  Tiffany,  please  understand,  it 
is  great  honour  for  me  that  I  may  pre- 
pare you  coffee.  Noelle  will  talk  with 
you  while  I  direct  Katy.  But,  child- 
is  there  cream?  ' 

"  Yes,  Maman,  quite  three  spoonfuls 
left  in  the  small  silver  jug.  Most 
lucky." 

Mrs.  Motte  vanished.  Noelle  took 
up  her  embroidery  and  made  feint  of 
being  busy  with  it,  the  better  to  allow 
her  guest  the  silence  she  knew  he  pre- 
ferred. He  did  not  like  one  to  prattle 
and  flutter.  She  was  not  surprised  at 
his  saying  nothing  about  her  new 
home,  although  this  was  his  first  visit. 
To-night  he  was  less  the  man  than  the 
minister,  burdened  with  the  care  and 

100 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

cure  of  souls,  impervious  to  lesser  mat- 
ters. She  glanced  across  at  his  face. 
Certainly  he  looked  the  ecclesiastic  to 
perfection  with  the  imposing  gravity 
of  his  attitude,  the  massive  modelling, 
the  deeply  expressive  lines  of  his  face. 
He  caught  her  look  as  it  was  lifted  and 
held  out  one  hand  with  a  very  beauti- 
ful smile. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Noelle,"  he 
said  quietly.  "  Give  it  to  me  in  con- 
gratulation." 

"  And  why?  '  But  she  gave  him 
her  hand. 

"  That  to  me  is  granted  an  hour  so 
exquisite  as  this,  a  peace  so  perfect,  an 
atmosphere  so  heavenly,  when  I  might 
be  in  the  lurid  glare  of  a  church  carni- 
val. Verily,  the  Cub  hath  his  uses!  ' 
and  he  smiled  whimsically. 

Noelle  did  not  reply.  Presently  Mrs. 
Motte  entered  with  a  tray  containing 
a  quaint  foreign  coffee  service  which 

101 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

she  placed  upon  a  tabouret  beside  Dr. 
Tiffany's  chair,  then  handed  him  a 
gleaming  damask  napkin,  smooth  as 
satin.  Opening  the  napkin  with  luxu- 
rious satisfaction  he  glanced  at  the 
tray,  where,  beside  the  old  blue  Canton 
cup,  appeared  a  plate  of  delicately 
browned  toast  and  a  tiny  dish  of  spicy 
Oriental  conserve. 

"  How  very  well  you  know  how  to 
care  for  a  man,  Madame,"  he  said  to 
Mrs.  Motte  with  a  graciousness  which 
filled  her  with  singular  delight.  It  was 
in  Dr.  Tiffany's  power  to  do  this  when 
he  chose,  a  part  of  his  claim  to  dis- 
tinction, of  his  hold  upon  a  large  body 
of  people.  When  he  had  ended  eating 
and  drinking,  which  he  did  abstemi- 
ously and  in  silence,  he  drew  up  to  the 
centre  table  and  took  in  his  hand  the 
book  which  Noelle  had  laid  down  upon 
Ms  entrance. 

"  Ah!  "  he  cried,  as  if  in  pleased 
102 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

surprise.  "  So  you  have  gotten  hold 
of  this  old  Anglo-Saxon  poetry.  I  am 
glad.  Do  you  know  it  well?  Some  of 
it  is  very  noble."  His  fingers  ran  rap- 
idly through  the  leaves  with  the  famil- 
iarity of  the  bookman.  "  This  now  is 
truly  great.  Listen!— It  is  from  Cyne- 
wulf's  *  Dream  of  the  Rood  ':— 

"  '  Then  I  prayed  me  to  the  Tree,  blithe  of  mood, 
With  a  mickle  eagerness  .  .  . 

.  .  .  and  my  spirit  was 
Passioned  for  departure.' 

"  '  Passioned  for  departure! '  "  he 
cried,  lowering  the  book  and  looking 
up  with  fervour  in  his  glance.  "  Was 
ever  a  phrase  finer  or  more  fit  for  a 
man's  last  hour?  Stevenson's  '  I  lay 
me  down  with  a  will '  has  a  note  of 
intrepidity  I  love,  but  how  it  lacks  this 
old  Saxon's  rapture  of  dying." 

As  he  spoke,  Dr.  Tiffany  turned  the 
pages  to  the  fly  leaf,  then  closed  the 
103 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

book,  all  his  fervour  fled,  and  laid  it 
down  with  a  smile  at  Noelle  which  she 
found  inscrutable. 

His  eye  had  taken  in  a  small  pen- 
cilled inscription:  "  N.  M.  from  W.  C. 
D."  but  this  she  did  not  guess. 

"  Is  it  to-night,  Dr.  Tiffany,  that  you 
have  the  Carnival  of  Nations  for  the 
benefit  of  the  building  fund?  '  Mrs. 
Motte  asked  politely,  observing  that 
the  reading  seemed  to  be  over. 

"  Madame,  yes.  To  me  it  would  be 
Hades.  But  there  are  those  to  whom 
it  is  Paradise." 

"  Oh,  really!  "  protested  Noelle, 
laughing.  "  Do  you  think  so?  ' 

"  Certainly.  There  is  Dane  now," 
and  Dr.  Tiffany  laughed  his  mellow 
laugh.  "  Nothing  could  be  more  to  his 
mind.  He  is  certainly  very  young, 
younger  than  I  had  supposed.  But  to 
be  sure  there  is  Adelaide  Search  to  the 
fore.  Dane  is  hard  hit,  I  judge." 
104 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Oh,  is  he?  How  interesting."  No- 
elle's  colour  deepened  but  her  eyes 
met  Tiffany's  without  shade  of  trou- 
ble. 

"  One  cannot  wonder.  She  is  quite 
of  the  great  world,  you  know,  Miss 
Motte.  The  indescribable  aroma  of  it 
clings  to  her  very  garments  and  exer- 
cises its  own  spell  on  the  lad's  senses. 
And  besides,  she  is  distinctly  beauti- 
ful." 

"  That  is  true,  Dr.  Tiffany.  I  met 
the  young  lady  at  Mr.  O'Brien's." 

"  Noelle,  you  do  not  speak.  Be 
plucky  now,  and  admit  that  Miss 
Search  is  beautiful  even  though  she 
be  your  brother  woman." 

"  I  admire  Miss  Search  very  much," 
Noelle  said  coldly. 

"  Very  good.  So  does  my  assistant. 
What  time  is  it?  Eight?  Incredi- 
ble! " 

Dr.   Tiffany  rose  and  took  up  his 

105 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

overcoat  which  he  had  hung  on  the 
back  of  the  chair. 

"  I  have  over-slept— over-dreamed. 
I  am  due  at  the  parish  house  at  eight. ' ' 

"  Ah,  then  Dr.  Tiffany  will  after  all 
attend  the  Carnival!  '  cried  Mrs. 
Motte  archly.  "  Perhaps  you  do  not 
in  reality  find  it  so  dull." 

Dr.  Tiffany  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  not  to  the  Carnival  I  am 
hastening,  Madame.  That  is  in  the  par- 
ish house  to  be  sure,  but  in  the  assem- 
bly hall  above.  I  go  to  the  study  below 
where  I  have  an  engagement  to  meet 
a  man,— by  the  way,  a  man  just 
landed,  having  come  all  the  way  from 
India." 

"  It  must  be  Dr.  Hartlieb,"  said 
Noelle. 

"It  is  Dr.  Hartlieb."  Dr.  Tiffany 
was  already  at  the  house  door.  "  How 
did  you  know  of  him  or  his  coming?  ' 

"  Through  Mr.  O'Brien." 
106 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  I  see.  Good  night,  Mrs.  Motte. 
Thank  you  for  your  hospitality.  Good 
night,  Miss  Motte." 

The  door  closed  upon  him. 


107 


AT  nine  o'clock  the  Carnival  of 
Nations  was  at  its  height.    The 
crowd,  confused  with  the  multi- 
farious challenge  to  attention,  swayed 
hither    and    thither,    heated,    excited, 
eager.    Everywhere  was  a  chaos  of  col- 
our, noise  and  perfume,  and  on  every 
side  those  most  interested  were  crying, 
"  Success!  '     "  Success!  ' 

Dane  pulled  himself  out  of  the  tide 
which  swept  onward  toward  a  stage 
on  which  the  Dances  of  all  Nations 
were  being  produced  at  intervals,  at- 
tended by  much  brassy  music  and 
character  songs.  He  threaded  his  way 
through  a  motley  throng  of  continental 
soldiers,  Dutch  milkmaids,  Empire 
beauties,  and  Turkish  damsels  in 
scarves  and  sequins,  all  of  whom  eyed 
108 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

him  with  distinct  favour  and  uncon- 
cealed demand  for  admiration.  He 
found  a  retreat  in  the  shadow  of  a 
flower  booth  and  watched  the  scene 
for  a  moment. 

A  pretty  girl  in  a  low  pink  gown 
darted  up  to  the  booth  crying  shrilly, 

"  More  roses,  quick,  give  me  a  dozen 
more.  I  sold  every  one  of  those  for 
two  dollars  apiece." 

Snatching  the  roses  she  held  them 
at  arm's  length  before  a  young  man 
who  had  just  entered. 

"Roses!  Roses!'  she  cried. 
"  American  Beauties  of  course.  We 
have  no  other  kind,"  and  she  flashed 
a  saucy  glance  at  the  stranger  who  re- 
sponded to  her  with  looks  and  words 
of  bold  admiration. 

Dane  turned  away  with  a  sense  of 
acute  discomfort.    He  was  detained  by 
hearing  his  name  spoken  by  some  one 
within  the  shadow  of  the  booth. 
109 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

11  Oh,  Miss  Search,"  he  said;  "  I  did 
not  remember  that  you  have  this  de- 
partment. How  long  have  you  been 
here?  " 

"  Quite  ten  minutes.  Long  enough, 
is  it  not?  I  promised  simply  to  show 
myself.  I  am  going  to  the  opera  now." 

"  May  I  help  you  to  find  your  car- 
riage? ': 

"  That  would  be  good  of  you." 

A  few  moments  later,  Dane  met  Miss 
Search  at  the  door  of  the  dressing  room, 
a  fair  and  stately  figure  in  her  sweep- 
ing white  evening  cloak. 

"  To  me  you  have  the  air,  Mr.  Dane, 
of  not  being  enthusiastic  over  the  Car- 
nival of  Nations,"  she  said  as  they 
walked  down  to  the  level  of  the  street. 

"  I  find  it  detestable,"  he  said  so- 
berly. 

"  Still  it  is  the  way  we  build 
churches  now,"  she  responded  lightly. 
"  You  would  better  learn  to  like  it. 
no 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

There  will  have  to  be  no  end  to  this 
kind  of  thing  for  the  next  two  years. 
The  church  is  to  cost— how  much  is 
it?" 

"  A  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  dol- 
lars," Dane  replied  reluctantly. 

"  If  the  Carnival  in  these  nights 
produces  two  thousand  it  will  be  ex- 
traordinary, will  it  not?  "  she  added 
carelessly,  then  entered  her  carriage 
and  was  driven  away. 

In  the  doorway  of  the  study  as  Dane 
turned  back  into  the  parish  house  he 
saw  Dr.  Tiffany;  with  him  a  stranger. 

"  Come  in,  Dane,"  said  his  superior. 
"  I  want  you  to  meet  Dr.  Hartlieb. 
He  came  to  Pemberton  only  this  morn- 
ing, direct  from  India.  Mr.  Dane,  Dr. 
Hartlieb." 

Dane   found  his   hand   taken   in   a 

friendly  grasp  by  that  of  a  tall,  thin 

man    with    homely,    strongly    marked 

features,   luminous,   light   gray   eyes, 

in 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

rather  long  brown  hair  swept  back 
carelessly  from  a  broad  forehead,  and 
a  fringe  of  brown  whiskers  below  the 
line  of  his  chin.  Dr.  Hartlieb  wore  a 
low  collar  turned  away  from  his  throat 
and  tied  with  a  soft  black  silk  knot. 
Altogether  his  appearance  was  uncon- 
ventional to  a  degree,  but  possessed  of 
a  singular  attraction;  the  eyes  were 
convincing  of  a  complete  sincerity. 

The  three  talked  for  a  few  moments, 
after  which  Dane  excused  himself  to 
go  to  his  own  small  study,  once  Miss 
Motte's,  at  the  end  of  the  long  room. 

"  You  are  not  returning  then  to  the 
Carnival,  Dane?  "  asked  Dr.  Tiffany. 

"  No.  I  think  my  absence  will 
hardly  be  noticed, "  he  replied  drily, 
entered  his  own  room  and  closed  the 
door.  A  little  after,  he  heard  the  oth- 
ers go  out  and  the  lower  part  of  the 
house  was  left  to  him  alone. 

The  room  in  which  he  had  found 

112 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

refuge  was  small  and  unimpressive, 
its  furnishings  hardly  more  than  a 
desk,  a  chair  or  two  and  a  set  of 
shelves.  Over  the  desk  hung  a  copy 
of  Bembrandt's  great  etching,  Christ 
the  Healer,  below  it  the  words,  "  Could 
ye  not  watch  with  Me  one  hour?  " 
placed  there  by  Noelle's  hand. 

Dane  had  made  it  his  purpose  to 
preserve  intact  every  smallest  arrange- 
ment as  she  had  left  it,  and  here  and, 
as  the  months  had  passed,  here  alone, 
he  seemed  able  to  hold  fast  to  the  in- 
itial aspirations  and  ideals  with  which 
he  had  entered  the  ministry.  In  Dr. 
Tiffany's  presence  these  were  apt  to 
seem  a  little  absurd;  in  Matthew 
O'Brien's,  impossible  of  attainment;  in 
the  presence  of  women  like  Mrs. 
O'Brien  and  Adelaide  Search  they  lost 
their  hold  upon  him  and  their  reality. 

But  with  Noelle  herself  and  in  this 
still  shrine  and  sanctuary  once  hers, 

"3 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

with  its  careworn,  compassionating 
Christ  and  its  piercing  question,  Dane 
could  find  himself  again,  could  again 
grasp  his  purpose  of  selfless  scorn  of 
personal  advantage  and  devotion  to  the 
lowliest  among  men.  To-night,  how- 
ever, a  sudden  hunger  for  Noelle's  ac- 
tual presence  mastered  him,  for  he  was 
spirit-starved  with  loneliness. 

"  What  of  this  place  without  her?  " 
his  heart  cried  out.  "  A  dull  and  empty 
cell  without  love  or  light  or  language. 
It  has  no  word  for  me  even  to-night 
when  I  need  it  most,  no  message  or 
token.  She  is  put  far  from  me  by  some 
nameless,  baffling  barrier  but  I  faint 
for  the  sight  of  her,  the  fragrance  of 
her  hair,  the  bloom  of  her  cheek,  the 
touch  of  her  hand." 

As  Dane's  thoughts  thus  ran  on,  a 
sudden  impetuous  impulse  yet  to  dis- 
cover some  smallest  token  of  Nbelle's 
aforetime  presence  in  the  place  rose 
114 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

in  him.  He  pulled  out  drawer  after 
drawer  from  the  desk,  tossed  his  own 
papers  into  wildest  confusion,  but  all 
in  vain.  Then  a  sudden  thought  came 
to  him.  Could  that  be  a  drawer,  that 
flat,  unbroken  surface  at  the  bottom 
of  the  desk,  apparently  its  frame?  He 
bent  and  pulled  at  it  from  below  and 
it  yielded  after  a  little  to  his  hand.  A 
drawer,  narrow  and  shallow,  was 
drawn  quickly  into  view,  but  it  was 
empty  save  for  a  sprinkling  of  dust. 
Its  counterpart  on  the  opposite  side, 
however,  rewarded  his  search,  for  in 
it,  covered  thickly  with  dust,  he  discov- 
ered a  small  and  shallow  paper  box  of 
foreign  make.  He  blew  off  the  dust 
and  found  a  cover  of  rose  colour  with 
tarnished  gilt  ornaments  and  a  tiny 
square  of  looking  glass,  suggestive  of 
the  hoarded  treasure  of  a  child. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  Dane 
opened  the  box.     Inside  there  lay  a 

"S 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

string  of  sandal-wood  beads  falling 
from  their  yellowed  thread,  a  spray  of 
jasmine,  dry  and  brown,  and  a  small, 
faded  book.  Nothing  more.  The  book 
appeared  to  be  a  collection  of  Christian 
hymns  printed  in  Hindustani.  The 
imprint  was  Agra.  By  this  he  knew 
that  the  little  forgotten  treasure  be- 
longed to  Noelle.  On  the  inner  cover 
of  the  book  was  written  in  laborious 
English: 

"  MISSY  NOELLE:— Praying  always  for 
her  and  for  her  soon  return  to  us,  her 
own,  respectfully, 

"  SONDERBAI." 

Dane  laid  the  things  in  place  and 
closed  the  box  with  tender  reverence. 
A  strange  throbbing  delight  awoke  in 
him  with  this  small  discovery.  That 
mysterious  Indian  childhood  of  No- 
elle 's  suddenly  seemed  alive  and  vivid 
116 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

to  his  fancy.  He  could  see  the  little 
creature,  graceful,  brilliant,  imperious, 
like  an  Oriental  princess,  his  old,  first 
thought  of  her,— followed  by  adoring 
servants  whom  her  father  had  led  in 
the  "  Jesus  way,"  and  who  prayed  and 
looked  always  for  the  child  of  their 
love  to  return  to  them. 

A  knock  on  his  door  startled  Dane. 
Opening  it,  he  found  to  his  great  sur- 
prise Mrs.  Motte.  The  clock  struck 
ten.  Dane  held  out  his  hand  and  spoke 
a  word  of  greeting  mechanically,  but 
the  suppressed  agitation  in  her  face 
and  manner  cut  the  effort  short. 

"  What  is  it,  Mrs.  Motte?  "  he  cried. 
"  What  can  I  do1?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  Mr.  Dane,"  she  said 
hastily.  "  I  am  sorry  to  have  dis- 
turbed you.  It  is  rather  late,  I  fear.  I 
have  been  to  Mr.  O'Brien's  and  they 
told  me  that  he  was  probably  over  here 
with  Dr.  Tiffany.  Dr.  Hartlieb,  I 
117 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

mean.  Excuse  me,"  and  she  laughed 
nervously,  "  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  make 
myself  very  clear." 

"  Dr.  Hartlieb  was  here  nearly  an 
hour  ago,  but  I  heard  him  go  out  with 
Dr.  Tiffany.  Let  me  go  and  inquire." 

"  No,  if  you  please,"  she  exclaimed, 
then  stopped  irresolute.  "  There  is 
really  not  the  slightest  need  of  my  see- 
ing him  to-night."  The  bright  light 
of  an  electric  burner  was  shining  full 
on  the  small  rose-coloured  box  as  it  lay 
on  the  desk.  Mrs.  Motte 's  eyes  had 
fallen  upon  it.  She  stopped  speaking 
and  grew  paler  than  she  had  been  be- 
fore. 

"  Did  Noelle  give  you  that?  "  she 
asked  with  disconcerting  sharpness. 

"  No,  Mrs.  Motte,"  Dane  replied 
gently.  "  I  have  just  found  it  where 
your  daughter  must  have  left  it  for- 
gotten, in  one  of  those  drawers." 

She  eyed  him  keenly,  then  stepped 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

into  the  room  and  took  the  box  in  her 
hand.  Opening  it,  she  examined  the 
contents  with  an  appearance  of  fever- 
ish anxiety,  then  to  his  further  sur- 
prise, sat  down  in  his  desk  chair. 
Something  in  her  attitude  betrayed, 
however,  that  the  strength  to  stand 
had  failed  her.  For  a  moment  she  sat 
in  silence,  her  large  blue  eyes  fixed 
upon  his  face;  then  she  said  slowly, 

"  Mr.  Dane,  some  one  ought  to  tell 
you  that  my  daughter  will  never 
marry.  She  is  pledged  never  to  do  so 
-while  I  live.  When  we  know  things 
certainly-  she  broke  off,  laughed 
faintly,  then  rose,  taking  the  box  with 
her,  and  walked  back  through  the  long 
study,  Dane,  in  great  perplexity,  at- 
tending her.  A  carriage  was  waiting 
before  the  door. 

"  Noelle  thinks  I  am  asleep/'  she 
said,  and  departed. 


119 


XI 

ON  the  evening  following  the  last 
night  of  the  Carnival  of  Nations 
a  reception  was  held  at  the  resi- 
dence of  Mr.  Bishop,  a  prominent 
banker  of  Pemberton,  at  which,  for  the 
surprise  and  entertainment  of  the 
guests,  Miss  Motte  was  to  give  a  mon- 
ologue. Her  talent  in  this  direction,  not 
heretofore  practised  in  public,  had  been 
discovered  by  Mrs.  O'Brien.  With  en- 
thusiasm that  lady  had  exclaimed, 
"  You  are  already  the  fashion  in  Pem- 
berton, Noelle,  but  now  we  will  have 
you  the  rage!  If  you  have  hitherto 
won  shillings  and  pence  with  drawing- 
room  lessons,  you  shall  henceforth  win 
sovereigns  with  drawing-room  mono- 
logues." 

This  last  consideration  of  necessity 
1 20 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

prevailed  with  Noelle,  who  was  finding 
the  practical  problem  of  sustaining  her 
tiny  household  in  Gore  Terrace  a  diffi- 
cult one. 

It  was  after  nine  o'clock;  the  rooms 
were  filled  by  a  brilliant  company, 
vaguely  expectant.  A  whisper  was 
going  about  that  Mrs.  Bishop  had  in 
reserve  some  rare  and  novel  diversion, 
precisely  what  no  one  knew.  Suddenly 
and  swiftly  at  an  unperceived  signal 
the  murmur  and  movement  everywhere 
ceased,  and  all  eyes  converged  on  a 
central  point  midway  of  the  vast  draw- 
ing-room. Here  a  circle  had  been 
cleared  and  a  small  platform  quietly 
introduced,  covered  with  a  rich  rug. 
For  a  moment  the  miniature  stage  was 
unoccupied  and  many  eyes  were  riv- 
eted upon  a  fragile,  white-haired 
woman  in  black,  who  stood  close  be- 
hind it  with  a  look  of  proud,  yet  pain- 
ful tension  in  her  dilated  eyes. 
121 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

This  was  Mrs.  Motte,  induced  for 
the  first  time  to  be  present  at  a  large 
social  function  in  Pemberton.  A  sigh 
escaped  her  lips  as  a  slight  veiled  fig- 
ure, draped  in  Indian  silk  of  changing 
tints,  appeared  as  if  by  magic  and 
stepped  upon  the  platform  within 
reach  of  her  hand. 

Parting  the  transparent  folds  of 
white  gauze  from  her  face  with  one 
skilful  movement,  Noelle  made  slow, 
sweeping  salaam,  then  explained  in  a 
few  quiet  words  her  purpose  to  set 
forth  in  impersonation  the  life  of  a 
Hindu  woman  of  the  ancien  regime 
from  its  childhood  to  its  close. 

At  the  first  glance  the  eye  of  the 
company  was  conquered  by  the  girl's 
beauty,  almost  startling  in  the  lus- 
trous, clinging  dress,  her  colouring  set 
off  by  the  glittering  intricacies  of  pro- 
fuse Oriental  jewelry  on  hair,  ears, 
throat,  and  wrists.  In  her  eyes  was 
122 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

the  dreamy  brooding  of  introspection; 
but  an  anxious  thrill  ran  through  the 
company  for  her,  for  her  voice,  as  she 
began  speaking  of  her  childhood,  was 
light  and  tremulous,  her  face  was  col- 
ourless, her  small  brown  hands,  loaded 
heavily  with  strange  symbolic  rings, 
clasped  and  unclasped  each  other  nerv- 
ously while  her  body  was  rigid.  But 
suddenly  there  was  a  striking  change. 
Unobserved  by  the  company  in  gen- 
eral, Dr.  Hartlieb  had  entered  the  room 
at  the  door  not  far  from  where  Noelle 
stood.  Mrs.  Motte,  standing  immov- 
able, lost  every  trace  of  colour.  Noelle 
did  not  notice  his  coming,  but  a  pierc- 
ing and  subtle  fragrance  was  wafted 
towards  her  and  an  instant  later  a 
spectator,  in  obedience  to  a  whisper 
passed  along,  bent  forward  and  handed 
her  a  spray  of  white  jasmine.  Instantly 
the  girl's  face  was  suffused  with  light 
and  colour,  an  elastic  softness  and  mo- 
123 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

bility  came  into  her  frame  and,  the 
jasmine  pressed  against  her  breast,  she 
went  on  speaking  in  a  voice  of  joyous, 
vibrant  timbre.  It  was  as  if  the  odour 
had  transformed  her  to  the  thing  she 
wished  to  represent,  had  transported 
her  into  the  scenes  she  sought  to  de- 
scribe. 

The  theme  ran  on  swiftly  to  the  cere- 
monies and  experiences  of  betrothal 
and  marriage,  of  which  the  breath  of 
the  jasmine  blossom  was  sign  and  sym- 
bol; then  followed  the  proud  exalta- 
tion of  the  mother  of  a  son;  the  long 
hours  of  brooding  seclusion  behind  the 
purdah;  then  the  husband's  death  and 
the  climax.  With  the  piercing  call 
"Suth!  Suth!"  there  followed  the 
wife's  voluntary  offering  of  herself,  a 
living  sacrifice,  on  the  funeral  pyre, 
secure  in  her  faith  in  an  instant  re- 
union of  her  spirit  with  the  spirit  of 
the  Beloved. 

124 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

From  point  to  point  as  she  proceeded 
Noelle  sang  a  few  strains  of  Hindu 
music,  now  quick  and  exultant,  again 
low  and  soothing;  then,  when  the 
death  motif  was  approached,  little 
more  than  a  prolonged  musical  wailing 
as  of  inarticulate  sorrow.  And  all  the 
while  the  wonder  grew  at  the  vivid 
beauty  of  her  face,  the  pathetic  mys- 
tery of  her  dusky  velvet  eyes,  the 
subtle  grace  of  her  action;  at  the  small 
hands,  moving  in  quiet,  mystical  mo- 
tions; the  body  and  limbs,  charged  with 
an  extraordinary  power  of  passionate 
expression. 

With  the  climax  Noelle  stepped  for- 
ward, unclasped  from  throat  and 
wrists  and  hair  her  gorgeous  jewels 
and  threw  them  to  the  floor,  but  fas- 
tened over  her  heart  the  jasmine 
flower,  in  token  of  the  Bridal  of  Death. 
With  slow,  rhythmical  steps  she  next 
moved  three  times  around  the  sup- 

125 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

posed   funeral   pile,    chanting   as    she 
went  the  Sancalpd: 

"  That  I  may  enjoy  with  my  husband 
the  felicity  of  heaven; 

"  That  expiation  may  be  made  for  my 
husband's  offences  — 

"  Thus  I  ascend  my  husband's  funeral 
pile. 

"  I  call  on  you,  ye  guardians  of  the  eight 
realms  of  the  world,  — 

"  And  upon  my  own  soul,  the  god  of  the 
dead,  day,  night  and  twilight,  - 

"  Thou  too,  conscience,  bear  witness:  — 

"  /  follow  my  husband's  body  on  the  fu- 
neral pile!" 

As  she  sang  this  Mantra,  her  un- 
veiled head  lifted,  her  clasped  hands 
extended,  the  triumph  over  self  and 
mortal  pain  revealed  in  voice  and  ac- 
tion, the  listeners  were  swept  on  to  a 
height  of  emotional  excitement  which 
126 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

left  them  breathless  when  they  sud- 
denly found  that  she  had  vanished 
through  the  crowd  and  all  was  over. 

A  moment  of  pulsating  silence  was 
followed  by  outbursts  of  tumultuous 
applause,  and  this  by  eager  excited 
speech.  From  every  side  men  and 
women  crowded  around  Mrs.  Motte 
with  superlative  expressions  of  con- 
gratulation upon  her  daughter's  gifts. 
These  were  received  with  a  species 
of  strained  and  formal  attentiveness 
thinly  veiling  a  quivering  excitement 
which  betrayed  itself  in  the  tremor  of 
her  hands  and  in  the  spot  of  colour  on 
each  cheek  which  grew  constantly 
deeper. 

"  Miss  Noelle  did  not  render  the 
Spirit  of  the  East,  Mrs.  Motte,"  a 
deep,  mellow  masculine  voice  at  her 
right  hand  declared;  "  she  was  the 
Spirit  of  the  East— the  patience,  the 
pathos,  the  passion  of  it  are  hers;  also 
127 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

the  capacity  for  supreme  self  sacri- 
fice." 

"  Possibly  you  overstate,  Dr.  Tif- 
fany. Pardon  me,"  said  the  little  lady 
gravely,  and  turned  quickly,  hearing 
her  name  spoken  at  her  left. 

"  At  last,  Mrs  Motte,  we  meet." 

Dr.  Hartlieb,  his  hand  extended,  his 
face  illuminated  with  anticipation  in 
the  meeting,  with  these  words  claimed 
her  attention.  Dr.  Tiffany,  as  he 
turned  to  leave  them,  noted  that  Mrs. 
Motte  as  she  gave  her  hand  spoke  no 
word  of  greeting  and  that  her  eyes 
searched  Hartlieb 's  face  with  an  al- 
most tragic  appeal.  He  heard  the  phy- 
sician say  with  grave  but  affectionate 
gentleness, 

"  Do  you  know  I  have  really  come 
to  Pemberton  to  see  you?  "  then  saw 
Mrs.  Motte 's  fragile  hand  lifted  in  a 
quick  deprecating  gesture. 


128 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Did  Dr.  Hartlieb  know  the  Mottes 
in  India,  Mrs.  O'Brien?  " 

Dr.  Tiffany  had  crossed  the  room  to 
that  lady's  side. 

"  Yes,  very  well,  in  Agra.  He  seems 
particularly  anxious  to  call  on  Mrs. 
Motte.  I  have  ordered  the  carriage  to 
take  him  there  to-morrow  morning,  if 
he  finds  that  time  suits  her.  But  he 
will  miss  Noelle  by  going  in  the  morn- 
ing; she  has  classes  all  the  morning 
from  nine  o'clock." 

"  I  suppose  all  that  will  be  at  an  end 
after  this  in  short  order." 

"  Why  so?" 

"  Stars  of  the  first  magnitude  are 
not  hitched  to  the  common  cart  of 
teaching  very  long.  You  have  launched 
your  star  brilliantly,  Mrs.  O'Brien." 
Dr.  Tiffany  spoke  without  enthusiasm. 

"  Was  she  superb!  "  with  ardour. 

"  Oh  yes,  that  could  have  been  fore- 


129 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

seen.  For  my  part,  I  could  wish  you 
had  left  her  undiscovered." 

"  How  extraordinary  of  you!  ' 

"  Not  extraordinary  in  the  least.  It 
will  simply  be  so  much  harder  for  me 
than  ever  now—  "  he  broke  off. 

"  Harder  than  ever  to  what?  ': 

"  You  know,  Mrs.  O'Brien,  per- 
fectly. Harder  than  ever  for  me  to 
marry  her." 

Mrs.  O'Brien's  face  changed.  She 
shook  her  head.  "  I  am  sorry," 
she  said  almost  tenderly,  "  but  a 
thing  cannot  be  harder  than  impos- 
sible." 

"  You  have  not  always  thought  this 
impossible,"  he  responded  quickly, 
watching  her  face  keenly. 

"  Perhaps  not  before—"  she  paused. 

"  Before  what"?  " 

"  Before  you  called  up  a  spirit  that 
you  cannot  lay."  Then,  in  answer  to 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

the  authoritative  demand  in  his  eyes, 
she  added,  "  your  Viking." 

Dr.  Tiffany's  massive  face  grew  sud- 
denly gray  and  grim. 


xn 

IN  the  great  hall  of  the  second  floor, 
embowered  with  ferns  and  palms 
and  lined  with  roses,  Dane  mean- 
while was  pacing  up  and  down.  Save 
for  a  white-capped  maid  here  and  there 
down  the  long  vistas  beyond  he  was 
alone.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  one 
closed  door,  his  face  was  alive  with 
eager  expectancy.  The  door  opened 
and  a  slender,  dark-haired  girl  in  a 
simple  white  gown  came  out.  He  met 
her  with  outstretched  hands.  Her  face 
grew  brilliant  at  first  sight  of  him 
waiting  thus;  but  when  he  took  her 
hand  tears  had  already  dimmed  the 
shining  of  her  eyes,  and  an  unwonted 
languor  in  her  bearing  moved  him. 

"  Noelle,"  he  said  softly,  leading  her 
away  to  a  window  niche  screened  by 
132 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

tall  ferns,  "  I  will  not  celebrate  you 
with  fierce  phrases  as  they  are  all  wait- 
ing to  down  there.  You  must  know 
what  you  have  done,— you  have  made 
your  India  live  for  us  all." 

Noelle  sat  now,  a  weary  droop  in  her 
limbs,  her  head  thrown  back  against 
the  black  oak  panelling  of  the  oriel; 
the  faded  spray  of  jasmine  lay  between 
her  listless  hands.  She  smiled  faintly. 

"It  is  more  than  that,"  she  said; 
"  it  is  alive  for  me  again  to-night  after 
a  long  sleep." 

"  I  know.  It  must  have  been.  It 
was  the  reality  which  made  it  almost 
overpowering.  You  will  be  called 
upon  for  things  like  this— for  Oriental 
interpretation  in  one  way  or  another 
continually  hereafter.  It  is  inevi- 
table." 

"  I  shall  never  do  the  thing  I  have 
done  to-night  again."  The  girl  spoke 
with  sudden  fire.  "  To  turn  the  deep- 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

est  life  of  my  people  and  my  own 
heart's  heart  into  an  evening's  fashion- 
able diversion!  it  is  impossible.  I  for- 
got that  part  of  it;  then  the  applause 
showed  me  what  I  had  done.  Oh,  I  am 
so  homesick!  ' 

"  Homesick  for  India?  " 

"  For  the  sun,  and  the  rain,  the 
beauty  and  the  ugliness,  the  love  and 
the  sorrow  of  it,  the  pity  and  the  pain. 
Yes,"  she  went  on  passionately,  "  for 
they  are  my  people  and  they  need  me 
—even  me.  They  brood  over  their 
memory  of  me,  they  pray  for  me  to 
come  back,  just  a  girl  like  me,  little  as 
I  can  do  for  them.  They  do  indeed 
watch  'for  me  to  return  and  their 
hearts  are  such  patient  hearts,  Mr. 
Dane,  and  they  have  so  few  joys.  Why 
must  I  stay  here  in  this  harsh,  rich, 
prosperous,  self-satisfied  America, 
where  even  the  poorest  feel  it  a  con- 
descension to  accept  the  service  and 
'34 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

sacrifice  of  your  very  life,  so  familiar, 
so  surfeited  they  all  are  with  the  prac- 
tices of  Christianity  ?  There  they  have 
not  known,  they  have  not  seen,  they 
grope  in  darkness  and  stretch  out 
hands  which  no  one  clasps— 

Noelle's  voice  faltered  and  she  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands.  The  spray 
of  jasmine,  still  penetratingly  sweet, 
dropped  by  her  side.  Dane  lifted  it  to 
his  lips,  then  gently  drew  her  hands 
away  from  her  face. 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  glancing  at  the 
flower,  "  was  it  this?  Did  the  fra- 
grance bring  the  call  of  the  East  back 
to  you?  " 

"  That,  and  another  bit  of  jasmine, 
brown  and  dead,"  she  answered  dream- 
ily, "  the  ghost  of  a  flower  and  the 
ghost  of  a  fragrance.  It  lay  in  a  little 
pink  box,  an  old,  old  box  that  my  ayah 
gave  me  when  I  was  a  child.  Maman 
found  it  yesterday—" 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  I  have  seen  that  box  myself.  It 
had  a  tiny  square  of  looking  glass  on 
the  cover. " 

Dane  had  broken  in  upon  Noelle's 
last  sentence,  the  suggestion  of  which 
he  had  failed  to  heed,  so  eager  was  he 
to  prove  himself  able  to  enter  into  her 
experience.  The  girl  looked  up  at  him, 
startled  inquiry  in  her  eyes.  A  ques- 
tion came  to  her  lips  but  remained  un- 
spoken. 

"  Do  you  remember?  "  he  asked  ten- 
derly. "  Can  you  recall  where  you  left 
it  now?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to,"  she  said  slowly. 
"  Yes,  it  comes  back  to  me,  I  had 
utterly  forgotten  that  lowest  desk 
drawer,"  and  her  cheeks  flushed 
deeply. 

"  And  you  found  it?  And  Ma- 
man— 

"  That  is  nothing,  an  insignificant 
detail,  a  thing  no  one  would  remember 

'36 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

to  mention,"  he  broke  in  with  a  firm 
smile  of  reassurance,  though  inwardly 
increasingly  stirred  by  Mrs.  Motte 's 
persistent  ignoring.  "  And  so  the  bit 
of  faded  jasmine  and  the  breath  of 
these  blossoms  which  Dr.  Hartlieb  was 
literally  inspired  to  bring  you  to-night 
are  calling  you  back  to  your  India, 
Noelle  dear?  And  why  not?  Why  not 
go  back?  " 

"  How  can  I?  '•  she  asked  slowly, 
looking  steadily,  with  a  child's  artless 
appeal  into  his  face. 

"  With  me,"  he  said,  bending  and 
speaking  low  but  with  passionate  ear- 
nestness. "  I  love  you.  You  cannot 
guess  just  what  such  a  love  as  mine 
means,  but  you  feel  a  certain  response 
to  it."  He  smiled  at  the  solemn  re- 
proach which  sprang  to  her  eyes. 
"  Very  well  then.  You  too  can  love— 
do  love  me.  There  is  some  mysterious 
barrier  which  keeps  me  from  you  here, 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

but  it  cannot  reach  all  the  way  to  In- 
dia, Noelle.  Let  us  break  away  from 
everything  and  go  together  there.  I 
too  feel  the  call  for  real  work  where 
work  is  needed.  My  soul  is  sick  of  the 
methods  I  am  using  here  to  build  up 
the  social  pride  and  material  luxury  of 
what  they  call  i  Calvary.'  The  name 
has  become  incredible  sacrilege  to  me," 
and  Dane  groaned  involuntarily.  "  I 
have  no  right  to  say  what  I  am  say- 
ing;—there  is,  there  must  be  a  better 
side,  but  through  and  through  I  am 
conscious  that  we  are  working  here  in 
the  name  but  not  in  the  spirit  of 
Christ.  If  I  am  to  save  anything  I 
must  go  elsewhere.  A  year's  associa- 
tion has  marred  miserably  my  ideal  of 
the  man  I  had  most  revered  as  a  relig- 
ious force." 

"  A   year   is   too    short    a   time    to 
know  Dr.  Tiffany,"  interposed  Noelle 
gravely;    "he  is  not  a  religious  force 
138 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

in  the  sense  in  which  you  supposed 
him  to  be,  in  which  his  parish  at  large 
thinks  of  him.  Still,  he  is  a  very  great 
man.  But  for  my  own  part,"  she  went 
on  even  more  earnestly,  "  I  think  you 
ought  to  be  a  foreign  missionary.  I 
do  not  see  how  a  man  with  your  tem- 
perament can  be  satisfied  to  be  any- 
thing else.  I  hope  you  will  go  to 
India." 
"  And  you?  My  wife  must  go  with 


me.' 


' '  I  can  never  be  your  wife.  The  bar- 
rier—you have  spoken  of  there  being 
one— would  be  the  same  there  as 
here." 

11  Noelle,  what  can  it  be  more  than 
your  mother's  opposition?  ' 

Silence. 

"  You  said  once  that  she  would  op- 
pose any  other  man  equally.  I  want 
you  to  explain." 

"  It  is  her  love  for  me;  I  have  prom- 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

ised,"  said  Noelle,  her  eyes  downcast, 
her  hands  clasped  tightly.  Then  she 
added,  "  My  mother  cannot  bear  the 
idea  that  any  one  can  ever  come  be- 
tween her  and  me,— that  I  could  love 
any  one  more.  She  knew  intuitively, 
the  moment  she  saw  you  --  that  - 
I  must  care.  And  I  did.  That  is 
all." 

"  But  it  is  insanely  selfish." 

Noelle 's  face  grew  a  shade  paler;  she 
did  not  speak. 

"  It  is  morally  wrong  to  let  such  an 
inhuman  promise  spoil  the  lives  of  two 
human  beings.  I  solemnly  protest 
against  your  yielding  to  a  motive  so 
tyrannous.  You  have  rights  to  be  con- 
sidered. So  have  I." 

"  Hush,  dear!  It  is  a  promise,  it 
cannot  be  broken."  Noelle  laid  her 
little  cold  hand  for  a  moment  on  his, 
and  met  through  her  tears  the  stern 
protest  in  his  eyes.  She  rose.  He, 
140 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

rising  also,  caught  and  held  her  trem- 
bling hands. 

"  No,  you  cannot  leave  me  yet,"  he 
said  imperiously.  "  I  have  more  to 
say,  more  to  ask.  Listen.  I  can  wait 
—years  if  I  must;  wait  until  I  am  a 
middle-aged  man.  Let  us  wait  then 
until  you  are  alone,  my  darling,  and 
there  is  no  one  to  oppose.  Surely  the 
trouble  will  be  over  then." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  The  trouble,  oh  love,  the  trouble 
could  not  be  changed  even  if  dear  little 
Maman  were  gone,  or  if  she  were  will- 
ing for  me  to  break  the  promise.  The 
trouble— 

Her  voice  faltered;  she  turned 
quickly,  hearing  a  step  approaching. 

"  I  must  know.  You  cannot  refuse 
me— it  is  my  right—  '  Dane  began,  the 
command  of  supreme  emotion  in  his 
tone.  Noelle  made  a  gesture  implor- 
ing silence,  and  turned  to  speak  with 
141 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

a  maid  who,  unperceived  by  him, 
had  discovered  their  presence  in  the 
oriel. 

"  I  was  looking  everywhere  for  you, 
Miss  Motte.  Dr.  Tiffany  wants  to 
speak  to  you." 

Dane  ground  his  teeth  hard  and 
stood  motionless.  Noelle,  without  turn- 
ing to  him  again,  followed  the  maid  to 
the  head  of  the  stair-case  where  Dr. 
Tiffany  stood  waiting.  His  eyes  meas- 
ured her  figure  deliberately  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  It  appears  simplicity,"  he  said 
musingly,  "  but,  having  taken  a  solid 
half  hour  to  accomplish,  it  must  be 
high  art.  Come  and  taste  the  sweet- 
ness of  success,  Miss  Motte,  and  let  it 
put  some  colour  into  your  face.  Your 
return  is  awaited  with  impatience,  I 
assure  you." 

"  I  cannot  go  down,  Dr.  Tiffany," 
Noelle  said  wearily.  "  Will  you  please 
142 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

ask  my  mother  to  come  up?  We  must 
go  home." 

"  Glory's  thrill  is  o'er  then,  is  it?  " 
he  commented;  and  now  he  studied 
her  face  narrowly. 

"  Very  well.  It  is  your  night.  Your 
monarchy  is  absolute." 

Turning  he  descended  the  stairs 
slowly,  but  stopped  on  a  landing  and 
stood  in  the  shadow  of  a  tall  palm,  his 
arms  crossed  upon  his  breast,  think- 
ing closely.  The  guests  were  now  be- 
ginning to  move  toward  departure;  al- 
though many  passed  him  he  did  not 
see  them,  but  when  William  Dane,  his 
overcoat  over  his  arm,  his  hat  in  hand, 
came  into  sight  on  the  stairs  above,  his 
eyes  were  instantly  upon  him. 

As  Dane  passed  the  older  man  noted 
two  things:  a  profound  and  striking 
change  in  his  countenance,  and  a  spray 
of  bruised  jasmine  carried  uncon- 
sciously in  his  hand.  In  Dane's  al- 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

tered  look  Dr.  Tiffany  recognized  the 
same  reaction  of  baffled  passion  which 
he  had  detected  just  now  in  Noelle. 
The  crushed  flower  in  his  hand  told 
the  rest  of  the  story.  Dane  ran  down 
the  stairs  rapidly,  stopping  to  speak 
to  no  one.  Dr.  Tiffany,  watching  from 
the  landing,  saw  that  he  left  the  house 
without  even  making  his  adieux  to  his 
hostess. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  and  Dr.  Hartlieb  ap- 
peared now  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
With  an  abrupt  resolute  movement  the 
clergyman  lifted  his  head,  by  force  of 
will  blotted  from  his  face  its  strained 
intensity  of  reflection,  and  made  ready 
to  intercept  them. 

"  Mrs.  O'Brien,  will  you  be  so  good 
as  to  take  Mrs.  Motte  home  in  your 
carriage?  "  he  asked  in  a  casual  tone 
as  they  met.  "  I  am  on  my  way  now 
to  beg  of  Madame  the  privilege  of  con- 
veying our  holder  Abend  stern  to  Gore 
144 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Terrace  myself— in  my  own  hired 
brougham. ' ' 

"  Do  you  think,  at  your  age,  it  is 
right?  "  quoted  Mrs.  O'Brien  laugh- 
ingly, at  the  same  time  flashing  aside 
at  him  a  glance  of  delicate  warning. 

"  I  think,  at  my  age,  it  is  safe,  dear 
lady." 

Dr.  Tiffany  was  already  past  them 
on  his  way  down  to  find  Mrs.  Motte. 
Something  in  his  tone  caused  Mrs. 
O'Brien  to  turn  and  look  after 
him. 

"  Can  you  understand  him?  Can 
any  one  ?  ' '  she  spoke  almost  uncon- 
sciously in  a  low  and  troubled  tone, 
then,  half  regretting,  glanced  up  at 
Dr.  Hartlieb.  She  met  the  invin- 
cible serenity  of  his  eyes. 

"  He  is  most  interesting,  Mrs. 
O'Brien,"  Dr.  Hartlieb  said  with  the 
unconscious  touch  of  authority  which 
belonged  to  him.  "  If  I  am  right  Dr. 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Tiffany  is  always  an  actor,  in  a  fine 
sense,  and  often,  most  often,  an  actor 
of  a  great  part." 

When  the  pastor  of  "  Calvary  "  set- 
tled back  in  his  cushioned  carriage 
beside  Noelle  a  little  later,  driving 
away  from  the  Bishop  residence,  he 
said  to  himself, 

"  And  now  for  my  surgical  opera- 
tion! " 

To  Noelle  he  remarked  with  a  curi- 
ous mingling  of  fatherly  authority  and 
restrained  tenderness, 

"  And  now  what  is  all  this  trouble 
between  you  and  Dane?  Make  your 
confession.  I  perceive  there  is  noth- 
ing for  it  but  for  me  to  take  a  hand. 
I  can't  see  two  hopeful  buds  of  prom- 
ise blighted  for  lack  of  a  little  stern 
sense." 


146 


xin 

WHAT  is  it,  Mrs.  O'Brien? 
Am  I  to  come  up?  I  am  in 
the  greatest  hurry  ever." 
Thus  Noelle,  standing  in  the  O'Briens' 
hall  at  noon  of  the  day  following  called 
up  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  O'Brien's  head  appeared  as  she 
leaned  over  the  railing  to  reply. 

"  Yes,  come  straight  up,  if  you  will. 
Was  I  atrocious  to  'phone  you  there  at 
the  Chases'?  "  By  this  time  Noelle 
had  reached  the  upper  floor  and  Mrs. 
O'Brien  interrupted  herself  with  a 
series  of  ardent  kisses. 

"  I  must  see  how  you  look  after  last 
night,  you  angel!  Never  do  I  hope  to 
be  so  proud  of  anybody.  But,  oh  No- 
elle dear,  what  I  really  sent  for  you 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

for  is  Matt,"  and  the  girl  saw  the 
shine  of  quick  tears  in  the  topaz  col- 
oured eyes. 

"  You  are  to  go  in  at  once  and  see 
him,"  Mrs.  O'Brien  went  on  rapidly, 
"  and  I  want  you  to  know  beforehand 
of  the  change.  What  Dr.  Hartlieb 
has  done  for  us,  dear,  in  these  few  days 
no  words  can  tell!  Noelle,  Matt  is 
going  to  be  made  all  over!  I  really 
believe  it.  Dr.  Hartlieb  has  known 
worse  cases  than  his  which  have  been 
almost  cured  and  there  is  a  treatment 
he  has  seen  used  in  the  hospitals  in 
Agra  that  Matt  has  never  tried.  Dr. 
Hartlieb  will  have  to  start  for  the  west 
to-morrow,  but  when  he  comes  back 
he  is  going  to  simply  give  himself  up 
to  using  these  different  processes.  The 
very  best  of  all  is  that  Matt  himself 
believes  in  him,  adores  him  almost,  and 
has  taken  on  the  idea  not  only,  Noelle, 
that  he  can  be  active  again,  by  and 
148 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

by,  but  that  he  can  do  a  lot  of  things 
now  which  he  had  given  up  entirely. 
Oh,  we  are  too  happy!  '  and  tears 
ran  unchecked  down  Mrs.  O'Brien's 
face. 

Noelle  had  time  to  reply  only  by  a 
fervent  embrace  before  she  was  drawn 
into  the  upper  library.  The  great  in- 
valid chair  stood  empty.  At  the  far  end 
of  the  room  on  a  stool  of  peculiar  con- 
struction Mr.  O'Brien  sat  before  a 
microscope,  at  work.  Noelle  had  never 
seen  him  before  out  from  the  shadowy 
seclusion  of  his  chair.  Her  first  sensa- 
tion was  of  the  extraordinary  noble- 
ness of  his  head,  her  second  of  the  fact 
that  his  disfigured  face,  when  seen  in 
the  open,  was  so  dominated  by  the 
power  of  the  eyes  and  brow  as  to  be 
far  less  painful  than  in  the  shadows 
with  their  suggestion  of  an  ail-too  ter- 
rible destruction. 

He  waved  her  a  greeting  with  a  free 
149 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

and  buoyant  gesture  of  his  right  hand. 
The  hand  wore  a  glove  of  thinnest  kid, 
so  delicate  as  not  to  interfere  with 
his  work,  Mrs.  O'Brien  told  Noelle 
later,  another  of  Dr.  Hartlieb's  sugges- 
tions. 

"  I  am  at  work,  Miss  Motte,"  Matt 
said  with  strong  significance.  "  There 
is  nothing  better  to  my  knowledge.  Is 
there  to  yours?  ' 

Noelle  shook  her  head,  tears  of  sym- 
pathy and  gladness  forbidding  words, 
for  a  moment. 

"  So  you  like  my  dear  friend  Dr. 
Hartlieb?  "  she  contrived  to  say  a  lit- 
tle later.  Matt  meanwhile  worked 
busily  away  and  his  wife  hovered 
around  him  like  some  radiant  and  joy- 
ous humming  bird. 

"  He  is  a  scientific  man.  He  is  also 
a  seer,"  said  Matt  soberly,  "  a  physi- 
cian for  soul  and  body  both.  We  have 
gotten  rid  of  enough  morbid  nonsense 
150 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

in  the  four  days  he  has  been  here  in 
the  house  to  equip  a  neurasthenic  san- 
itarium. Haven't  we,  Cornelia?  " 

"  We  certainly  have,"  cried  Mrs. 
O'Brien  with  a  ripple  of  happy  laugh- 
ter. "  Imagine,  Noelle,— Matt,  this  is 
so  funny  that  I  must  tell  on  you,— my 
husband  actually  imagined  himself 
jealous  of— Dr.  Tiffany!  '  And  a 
glance  of  manifold  significance  was 
shot  athwart  into  Noelle 's  eyes. 

The  girl  coloured  deeply. 

"  We  know  what  we  know  about 
Dr.  Tiffany,  don't  we,  Mottley? " 
added  her  friend. 

"  I  think  I  know  more  about  him 
than  any  one,  even  you,"  Noelle  re- 
sponded with  a  deeper  seriousness  than 
was  looked  for.  "  Dr.  Hartlieb  is 
a  very  wonderful  man,  Mr.  O'Brien, 
but  Dr.  Tiffany  may  be  not  less  noble 
in  certain  ways.  But  I  must  run 
home,"  she  added  hastily,  turning  to 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

the  door  as  if  eager  to  escape  fur- 
ther discussion.  "It  is  long  past 
noon." 

"  You  will  find  Dr.  Hartlieb  there 
if  you  are  quick  enough,"  said  Matt 
carelessly. 

"  What,  at  our  house?  "  cried  the 
girl  astonished.  "  Did  Maman  expect 
him  ?  ' '  and  not  waiting  for  reply  she 
hurried  down  the  stairs  and  away  from 
the  O'Briens'  house  to  her  own  in  Gore 
Terrace. 

At  the  door  she  encountered  Dr. 
Hartlieb,  leaving.  A  cloud  of  perplex- 
ity which  she  fancied  on  his  face  in  her 
first  glimpse  of  it  passed  as  he  saw  and 
greeted  her. 

"  When  I  knew  you  in  India  you 
were  the  sweetest  child  I  ever  saw, 
Miss  Noelle,"  he  said  with  a  certain 
old  world  gallantry  which  became  him, 
"  and  your  womanhood  is  true  to  your 
childhood.  I  want  to  have  a  long  talk 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

with  you  and  find  how  much  you  re- 
member of  Agra  still." 

"  Everything,  Dr.  Hartlieb!  "  cried 
Noelle  fondly,  "  but  there  are  so  many 
questions  I  have  to  ask  you." 

A  motion  of  Mrs.  Motte's  hand  as 
she  stood  within  the  parlour  door 
called  Noelle 's  attention  quickly  to  her 
mother's  pallor  and  to  her  look  of  ex- 
cessive uneasiness.  Whether  he  ob- 
served it  also  or  not,  Dr.  Hartlieb  re- 
plied with  unchanged  cordiality  and 
composure : 

"  I  shall  surely  see  you  when  I  come 
back  from  the  west,  two  weeks  from 
now.  I  shall  delay  sailing  for  Naples 
on  my  return  voyage  to  India  a  little 
in  order  to  do  something,  if  I  can,  for 
Mr.  O'Brien.  He  is  my  old  friend,  you 
know,  and  such  a  splendid  fellow— 
really  a  genius  in  his  line,  and  with 
a  great  work  before  him  I  believe." 

"  It  is  most  wonderful,  the  new  life 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

you  have  brought  them  both,  Dr. 
Hartlieb,"  returned  Noelle  earnestly, 
"  I  wish  you  could  stay  with  us  now 
and  talk  it  over  a  little  at  lunch- 
eon." 

"  I  wish  I  could,  my  dear,  but  I 
have  an  appointment  now  at  once  with 
Mr.  Dane,  who,  by  the  way,  is  the 
finest  lad  I  have  met  over  here.  Do 
you  know  he  is  considering  going  out 
to  India  to  help  in  our  work  at  Agra? 
He  told  me  so  early  this  morning  and 
we  must  discuss  it  together  thor- 
oughly. Dane  would  be  a  tremendous 
accession  to  our  force.  Go  and  rest, 
Miss  Noelle.  You  are  tired,  your  face 
shows  it.  That  was  rather  wonderful, 
I  thought,  which  you  did  last  night. 
Oh,  the  jasmine!  It  helped  you?  lam 
very  glad.  Mrs.  O'Brien  told  me  what 
was  on,  and  I  bethought  me  of  the 
power  of  a  perfume,  so  ransacked  half 
a  dozen  greenhouses  and  found  it. 
154 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Good  morning,  Mrs.  Motte,  good  morn- 
ing, Miss  Noelle." 

Closing  the  door  Noelle  stepped  into 
the  parlour.  Her  mother  sat  in  a 
small,  stiff  chair,  her  hands  dropped  in 
her  lap,  her  eyes  fixed  before  her.  The 
girl  observed  the  strange  brooding 
trouble  in  them  with  a  cold  quickening 
of  her  heart  beat. 

11  Oh,  Maman,  my  darling,"  she  be- 
gan with  a  strong  effort  to  divert  her 
mother's  thought  from  whatever  secret 
source  of  anxiety  absorbed  her,  "  I 
have  just  come  from  the  O'Briens'  and 
I  never  knew  such  a  change  as  Dr. 
Hartlieb  has  brought  into  that  house 
-it  is  pure  joy  and  peace." 

Mrs.  Motte  turned  her  eyes  slowly 
until  they  rested  in  a  wan  and  piteous 
gaze  upon  her  daughter's  face. 

"  Peace?  "  she  said  in  a  dull,  tone- 
less voice,  "  peace?  there  is  no  peace. 
He  has  come  not  to  bring  peace  but 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

a  sword—  May  he  never  come  into 
my  house  again!  ' 

11  Oh,  Maman,  I  am  sure  he  is  kind 
and  good."  Noelle,  standing  beside  her 
mother,  drew  her  head  to  rest  against 
her  and  fondly  smoothed  the  thickly 
waving  white  hair. 

"  He  will  try  to  turn  you  against 
me,  Noelle,"  Mrs.  Motte  continued 
with  a  heartbreak  in  her  voice.  "  He 
thought  we  were  too  happy  here  all  by 
ourselves  in  our  little  home,  so  he  came 
all  the  way  from  Agra  to  destroy  us." 

"  No,  no,  darling,"  said  Noelle,  tears 
running  down  her  own  pale  cheeks. 
"  He  could  not  spoil  our  happiness  if 
he  tried,  nobody  could.  Nobody  can 
turn  me  or  take  me  from  my  precious 
little  Mere  Angelique.  She  is  mine 
and  I  am  hers  for  ever  and  for  ever." 

Mrs.  Motte,  covering  her  face  with 
both  hands,  burst  into  vehement  sobs 
of  relief.  Soon,  however,  looking  up, 
156 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

she  smiled  with  quivering  lips  into  the 
beautiful  face  bent  with  endless  com- 
passion above  her. 

"  My  Noelle  never  said  a  false  word 
to  her  mother— ' '  she  began  pathet- 
ically. 

"  Well,  I  should  rather  think  not!  " 
cried  Noelle  with  a  sudden  change  to 
matter-of-fact  cheerfulness.  "  What  a 
singular  thing  that  would  be  for  your 
Noelle  to  do,  wouldn't  it  now?  Come 
and  lie  down  like  a  dear  little  lady. 
Why  doesn't  Katy  call  us  to  luncheon? 
I  hope  you  have  something  good,  Ma- 
man.  You  can't  think  how  hungry  I 
am." 

"Will  you  sing,  Noelle?"  Mrs. 
Motte,  white  and  exhausted,  looked  up 
from  the  sofa  where  she  was  now  lying 
quietly  with  wistful  eyes  from  which 
all  light  had  fled. 

Noelle  turned  to  the  piano.  For  a 
moment  the  muscles  of  throat  and  lips 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

were  so  rigid  that  speech  was  impossi- 
ble. Meanwhile  she  turned  over  books 
and  music  with  rapid  motions,  her  eyes 
seeing  nothing  through  a  mist  that  lay 
before  them.  But  presently  she  sang: 

"  Far,  far  away,  like  bells  at  evening  pealing, 
The  voice  of  Jesus  sounds  o'er  land  and  sea ; 
And  laden  souls,  by  thousands  meekly  stealing, 
King  Shepherd,  turn  their  weary  steps  to  thee. 

Angels  of  Jesus,  Angels  of  light, 

Singing  to  welcome  the  pilgrims  of  the  night. 

"  Angels  sing  on,  your  faithful  watches  keeping, 
Sing  us  sweet  fragments  of  the  songs  above; 
Till  morning's  joy  shall  end  the  night  of  weeping, 
And  life's  long  shadows  break  in  cloudless  love." 

Rising,  Noelle  saw  that  her  mother 
slept.  Katy  came  to  the  door  to  an- 
nounce luncheon,  but  Noelle  silenced 
her  with  uplifted  finger. 

"  I    have    a    note    to    write    before 

luncheon/'      she      whispered,      "  and 

mother  is  having  her  nap  now.    Come 

in  in  a  few  minutes  and  my  note  will 

158 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

be  ready  for  you  to  take  out  to  the 
mail  box." 

The  note,  addressed  to  the  Reverend 
William  Dane,  which  Katy  Duffy  ran 
to  post  at  the  street  corner  that  No- 
vember noon,  was  as  follows:— 

"  MY  FRIEND: 

"  I  am  told  that  it  is  your  serious 
purpose  to  go  to  India.  This  is  the 
best  and  the  gladdest  thing  I  know. 

"  None  the  less  Warner  Tiffany  is 
greater  than  we,  greater  than  I  ever 
guessed  until  last  night  when  he 
pleaded  your  cause,  believing  it  meant 
happiness  for  us  both.  He  knows  bet- 
ter now,  for  I  told  him  what  I  must 
tell  you  and  none  beside.  For  you 
have  a  right  to  demand  light  on  the 
trouble  which  must  for  ever  separate 
us,  but  alas!  you  will  find  the  light 
darkness.  Are  we  not  all  making  our 
way  through  shadows  and  darkness, 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

pilgrims  of  the  night?  The  words,— I 
have  just  sung  them,— remain  with  me. 

"  Let  me  say  what  I  must  in  few 
words. 

"  Years  ago  my  dear  mother  suffered 
and  she  may  again  suffer,  a  mental 
malady  which  debars  me,  her  child, 
from  marriage.  You  will  admit  the 
finality  of  this  fact.  Still  I  am  not 
sorry  that  I  can  love. 

"  Remember— no,  forget— 

"  NOELLE." 


160 


XIV 

"  D IG  Chief  of  the  Clouded  Brow» 

j  let  loose  your  thunders!  It  is 
the  first  time  I  have  seen  you 
fly  a  distress  signal.  You  have  walked 
this  floor  in  a  fine  fury  for  twenty 
minutes.  Now  I  am  ready  to  hear 
what's  in  the  wind." 

Dr.  Hartlieb  turned,  paused  in  his 
pacing  the  floor  of  Mr.  O'Brien's  li- 
brary and  gazed  at  his  friend  steadily, 
unsmiling,  as  if  measuring  his  capacity 
in  some  certain  direction. 

"  I  am  bothered  a  bit,  Matt,  for  a 
fact,"  he  said  abstractedly. 

"  Very  well.  Say  on.  I  understand 
perfectly  that  you  are  in  some  sort  of 
perplexity  connected  with  the  myste- 
rious Mrs.  Motte." 

"  Oh,  you  understand  that,  do  you?  ' 
161 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

asked  Hartlieb  with  quickened  atten- 
tion. "  Yes,"  he  continued,  slowly, 
throwing  himself  into  a  chair  near  the 
desk  at  which  Matt  was  seated,  "  I 
am  staggered  as  to  what  to  do  next. 
I  have  come  from  Agra  to  Pemberton, 
something  of  an  excursion  you  observe, 
on  a  singularly  important  mission  to 
the  daughter  of  our  great  missionary 
David  Motte.  I  see  Mrs.  Motte,  lay 
the  case  before  her,  confident  of  her 
cooperation  in  what  must  be  done,  and 
am  met  with  an  emotional  repulse  and 
entreaties  that  not  a  word  shall  be  said 
to  her  daughter.  The  opposition  I  do 
not  rate  of  great  importance,  having 
known  Mrs.  Motte  in  the  past  to  be 
of  a  highly  sensitive  organization.  I 
expect  it  to  pass  and  I  leave  Pember- 
ton for  two  weeks.  Yesterday  I  return, 
and  designedly  in  Miss  Motte 's  ab- 
sence, go  to  the  house.  I  am  met  by 
the  message,  given  me  by  the  little 
162 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

maid  at  the  door,  that  Mrs.  Motte  is 
wholly  unable  to  see  me  or  to  commu- 
nicate with  me  in  any  way  whatever." 

"  She  is  ill,  then?  " 

"  No,  the  maid  said  she  was  around 
the  house  as  usual." 

"  After  all,  Doctor,  it  is  not  so  very 
surprising,  considering  all." 

"  All  what?  " 

Matt  had  spoken  with  a  quite  un- 
usual seriousness. 

"  This  matter  of  Noelle's  birth  must 
have  painful  circumstances  connected 
with  it." 

The  Doctor  looked  hard  at  his  friend, 
plainly  astonished. 

"  What  do  you  know  of  Noelle's 
birth?  "  he  asked  almost  curtly.  "  The 
child  knows  nothing  of  it  herself." 

"  I  made  up  my  mind  months  ago 
that  she  must  be  illegitimate." 

"  Wrong  entirely.  Nothing  of  the 
sort." 

163 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  She  is,  however,  Eurasian.  That 
you  will  not  deny. ' ' 

Hartlieb  drummed  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair  and  was  silent. 

"  I  have  seen  a  likeness  of  David 
Motte,  and  I  know  Mrs.  Motte  per- 
sonally,—one  a  sandy-haired  New  Eng- 
lander,  the  other  French  but  fair.  No- 
elle  cannot  be  the  child  of  both  of 
them,"  Matt  declared  concisely. 

"  She  is  the  child  of  neither." 

Having  said  this,  the  Doctor  rose 
and  again  restlessly  walked  the  room, 
Matt's  eyes  following  him  with  keen 
expectancy. 

"  Tell  me  the  story,  old  fellow,"  he 
said  presently.  "  Let  us  take  counsel 
together.  I  may  be  able,  who  knows? 
to  help  in  some  small  way." 

The  Doctor  crossed  the  room  and 

bending  gave  Matt  his  hand  in  token 

of  a  pact  between  them  of  silence  and 

service.    Then,  without  a  word,  he  took 

164 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

from  an  inner  breast  pocket  a  brown 
linen  envelope,  opened  it  and  laid  on 
the  desk  before  his  friend  two  yellowed 
photographs.  One  showed  the  head 
and  shoulders  of  an  Englishman  of 
about  forty,  in  the  uniform  of  a  British 
artillery  officer  in  India;  the  face  was 
handsome  but  commonplace.  The  other 
was  the  likeness  of  a  Eurasian  girl  of 
eighteen;  the  features  were  European, 
the  eyes  alone  in  their  extraordinary 
beauty  showed  the  strain  of  Oriental 
blood. 

"  Noelle's  parents, "  Hartlieb  said 
briefly. 

Matt  studied  the  two  faces  with  ab- 
sorbed interest. 

"  This  is  very  beautiful,"  he  said  at 
last,  lifting  the  second  photograph  and 
holding  a  reading  glass  above  it. 
"  Two-thirds  English,  I  should  say; 
the  other  third,  what—?  " 

"  Parsee,  it  is  supposed,— the  select 
165 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

strain  of  the  East— Persian  that  is,  you 
know.  She  was  called  Naina.  She  is 
described  as  brilliant  in  mind  as  well 
as  in  person. " 

"  A  splendid  heritage!  No  wonder 
our  adorable  Noelle  is  a  genius  with 
such  a  mother.  The  man  married  her, 
you  say.  From  his  face  one  would  not 
expect  it." 

"  He  was  not  a  bad  sort,  I  judge.  I 
never  happened  to  see  him,  but  he  was 
a  gentleman  and  a  soldier.  Of  course 
those  Indian  marriages  are  not  always 
distinctly  remembered  when  a  man 
goes  back  to  England,  but  this  man 
behaved  rather  well  on  the  whole,  it 
seems  to  me." 

"  Allow  me  to  form  an  opinion 
also,"  said  Matt,  a  touch  of  impatience 
in  his  irony. 

"Yes.    Where  to  begin?—" 
"  With  the  Mottes  perhaps?  " 
"  Very  well.     Motte,  as  you  know, 
166 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

was  a  missionary  of  the  Board  sta- 
tioned in  Agra,  where  he  met  and  mar- 
ried Mademoiselle  Angelique  Fabre, 
the  daughter  of  a  French  merchant, 
resident  in  Calcutta." 
"  The  present  Mrs.  Motte?  " 
'  Yes.  I  met  them  first  in  Mussoo- 
rie  in  the  Himalayas  where  they  came 
for  the  warm  weather,  that  year— 
188—.  They  had  been  married  then 
five  years.  Motte  wras  a  man  of  com- 
manding ability,— a  saint  withal,  of  the 
militant  variety,  a  knight  with  the 
cross  on  his  heart  instead  of  on  his 
cloak.  Mrs.  Motte  was  charming, 
graceful,  distingue;  as  you  can  see,  she 
had  a  lovely  face,  still  people  always 
wondered  why  a  missionary  should 
have  chosen  her  for  a  wife;  certainly 
she  is  not  and  never  was  of  the  con- 
ventional type." 

"  That  is  probably  the  reason." 
"  Probably.     They  were  a  most  in- 
167 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

teresting  pair  certainly  as  I  met  them 
up  there  in  the  little  mountain  town 
where  I  was  stationed  in  the— hospital. 
I  had  been  then  but  two  years  in  India 
and  was  already  under  appointment 
for  the  post  in  Agra  where  I  am  now." 
"  Had  the  Mottes  children?  " 
"  No.  This  had  been  a  matter  of 
excessive  regret  to  Mrs.  Motte,  but 
when  I  became  acquainted  with  them 
there  in  Mussoorie  she  was  expecting 
her  first  confinement,  and  was  buoy- 
antly, pathetically  happy  in  the  fact. 
I  attended  her.  The  baby  was  a  girl 
and  the  mother  was  rapturous— all  her 
emotions  always  were  of  this  over- 
wrought, perilous  pitch.  She  was,  how- 
ever, very  ill;  I  was  fearful  of  her 
recovery  and  her  husband  knew  it. 
Still  we  hoped  hard  until,  when  it  was 
a  week  old,  the  child  died.  Then  the 
trouble  went  to  the  brain  and  Mrs. 
Motte  became  wildly  delirious. 
1 68 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

u  Motte  was  heartbroken.  I  never 
saw  a  man  in  greater  agony.  He  im- 
plored me  to  try  anything,  however 
desperate,  to  call  his  wife  back  to  rea- 
son at  least,  if  not  to  life;  finally  he 
suggested  bringing  a  child  from  the 
hospital  and  trying  the  effect  upon  her. 
We  both  thought  at  once  of  a  month- 
old  baby  whose  mother  had  died  in  the 
hospital  in  childbirth." 

Matt  touched  the  faded  photograph 
of  Naina  with  his  finger,  and  his  eye- 
brows asked  his  question.  Hartlieb 
nodded. 

"  The  father/'  he  said,  "  had  gone 
back  to  England  six  months  before, 
called  by  the  unexpected  death  of  his 
older  brother  to  succeed  to  a  title  and 
an  estate.  He  had  left  money  with 
Naina,  but  plainly  did  not  expect  to 
see  her  again.  No  one  looked  for  him 
to  manifest  interest  in  this  motherless 
child.  It  was  on  the  hospital  to  care 
169 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

for,  which  meant  a  free  hand  for  me 
in  the  matter.  As  an  experiment  I 
brought  the  little  thing  and  placed  it 
at  Mrs.  Motte 's  breast." 

The  Doctor  paused,  his  rugged  face 
tender  with  recollection. 

"  It  saved  her,  of  course,"  said  Matt 
gently;  •"  life  and  reason  both." 

The  other  bent  his  head  in  assent 
and  continued:  "  Fully.  There  was  no 
deception  of  the  mother— no  wish  or 
chance  for  any  indeed.  Mrs.  Motte 's 
baby  had  died  in  her  arms  and  every 
feature  was  impressed  upon  her  mem- 
ory unalterably.  But  she  welcomed  the 
little  hospital  waif  with  a  heart-rend- 
ing mother  love  and  insisted  upon 
adopting  her  for  her  own,  only  binding 
every  one  acquainted  with  the  matter 
by  a  solemn  promise  never  to  reveal 
the  fact  that  the  child  was  not  hers. 
Aside  from  ourselves,  the  head  nurse 
at  the  hospital  and  Soonderbai,  Mrs. 

170 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Motte's  ayah,  no  one  knew  the  cir- 
cumstances and  her  wish  has  been 
sacredly  followed.  She  had  an  uncon- 
querable conviction,  which  seems  to 
have  become  the  master  passion  of  her 
life  as  I  see  her  now,  that  the  child 
would  not  fully  return  her  love  unless 
believing  herself  her  own." 

"  Mrs.  Motte  is  a  curious  psycholog- 
ical study  to  me,— always  has  been," 
commented  Matt.  "  She  struck  me  the 
first  time  I  saw  her  as  having  the 
peculiar,  imperious  charm  of  the  per- 
son who  has  always  had  power  to  im- 
pose her  own  will  upon  every  one 
about  her." 

"  Your  diagnosis  is  accurate.  Such 
a  person  is  sure  to  be  fascinating— 

"  But  sure  to  be  dangerous,"  added 
Matt  musingly.  "  Such  a  woman  will 
accept  the  most  vital  of  sacrifices  as  a 
matter  of  course." 

"  There  was  still  one  thing  in  the 
171 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

way,"  continued  the  Doctor  with  only 
a  glance  to  show  his  acquiescence, 
"  before  the  Mottes  could  rest  fully  in 
their  hearts'  desire.  I  insisted  upon 
communicating  with  the  child's  father, 
now  Lord  Statham,  in  England,  and 
without  naming  the  Mottes,  asking  his 
full  surrender  of  the  child.  On  this 
account  there  was  a  long  delay,  and  it 
was  only  on  Christmas  Day  that  I  re- 
ceived the  letter  of  consent  from  Sta- 
tham, the  first  and  last  he  appears  to 
have  written  in  the  matter.  That  day 
I  was  able  to  take  Mrs.  Motte  the  news 
that  the  child  was  hers." 

"  And  they  named  her  Noelle,"  said 
Matt,  with  a  smile  which  made  his 
marred  face  almost  beautiful.  "  What 
next?  " 

et  Next,  quiet,  wholesome  happiness 

in  the  earnest,  beneficent  life  divided 

between    Agra    and    for    the    warm 

weather  Darjeeling— the  Mottes  never 

172 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

went  to  Mussoorie  again.  But  when 
Noelle  was  perhaps  thirteen,  Motte 's 
health  failed.  He  did  not  know,  as  I 
did,  that  he  was  doomed,  but  counted 
himself  on  furlough  when  he  came  over 
here  with  wife  and  child,  and  went  for 
rest  to  his  native  village  in  Maine.  He 
died  there  something  like  a  year  later. 
I  received  papers  promptly  and  wrote 
to  Mrs.  Motte  several  times,  but  never 
heard  from  her.  The  years  between 
her  husband's  death  and  the  present 
time  are  unknown  to  me,  save  as  I 
infer  from  results  that  she  must  have 
devoted  herself  successfully  to  the  care 
and  training  of  this  singularly  lovely 
Noelle.  Her  health  I  perceive  is  seri- 
ously impaired  and  the  possibility 
which  I  foresee,  rightly  or  wrongly, 
that  she  will  not  live  many  months 
makes  me  hesitate  to  push  things  to  a 
conclusion  against  her  wishes." 
"  What  has  happened?  " 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  This:— Statham  died  about  a  year 
ago,  having  married  and  leaving  a  son. 
In  process  of  time  I  received  from  his 
lawyer  a  letter  acquainting  me  with 
the  fact  that  in  his  will  Noelle  was 
acknowledged  as  his  legitimate  child 
and  the  sum  of  £10,000  was  left  in  my 
hands  for  her  with  the  explicit  charge 
that  she  should  be  told  of  her  parent- 
age. In  case  she  could  not  be  found 
or  had  died  in  the  intervening  years, 
this  legacy  was  to  remain  in  my  hands 
for  use  in  the  Agra  Christian  hos- 
pital." 

"  Well,  well!  this  is  a  situation.  It 
obliges  you  to  press  the  matter 
whether  you  will  or  no.  I  suppose 
there  is  no  one  else  to  act— no  one  liv- 
ing but  yourself  who  understands  the 
matter  from  the  beginning." 

"  No  one  but  myself  and  Mrs.  Motte 
and  she  ranges  herself  sharply  against 
me.  But  you  see  I  cannot  drop  it  on 
174 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

account  of  her  hysterical  notion  that 
Noelle  will  love  her  less  when  she 
knows  the  facts." 

"  Clearly  you  cannot." 

"  So  then,  to  go  back.  I  wrote  at 
once  and  repeatedly  to  the  old  address 
of  the  Mottes  in  Maine,  but  received 
no  answer.  At  length  I  discovered 
through  indirect  sources  that  Mrs. 
Motte  and  Noelle  were  both  still  living 
and  here  in  Pemberton.  I  wrote  again; 
still  no  answer,  although  I  gave  some 
hint  of  the  nature  and  importance 
of  my  purpose.  Then  I  decided  to 


come/ 


And  coming  you  find  yourself  no 


nearer—" 


"  I  hear  you  speak  of  coming,"  cried 
Mrs.  O'Brien's  voice  at  the  door  which 
at  the  moment  she  had  opened,  "  and 
it  is  certainly  high  time.  The  carriage 
is  waiting  to  take  us  for  our  drive,  Dr. 
Hartlieb.  Have  you  forgotten  your 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

promise  to  drive  with  me  at  three? 
Here  is  something  for  you,  just  de- 
livered," and  she  handed  him  a  note 
which  had  plainly  not  come  by  post. 
"  The  girl  who  brought  it  is  waiting 
for  an  answer." 

Without  pausing  to  speak  the  Doc- 
tor broke  open  the  envelope.  As  he 
read  a  shade  of  surprise  crossed  his 
face. 

"  Dear  lady,"  he  said,  to  Mrs. 
O'Brien,  "  to  my  sincerest  regret  I 
cannot  have  the  pleasure  of  driving 
with  you  this  afternoon.  Commands 
are  laid  upon  me  to  come  for  afternoon 
tea,  and  to  come  early,  to  78  Gore  Ter- 
race." 

Matt  turned  a  look  of  startled  in- 
quiry to  his  friend. 

"  Yes,"     Hartlieb     added     soberly, 

glancing     again     through     the     note; 

"  Mrs.  Motte  appears  most  desirous  of 

a  chance  to  talk  over  old  times  in  Agra 

176 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

together  and  begs  me  not  to  disappoint 
her." 

Turning  to  the  desk,  he  wr:>te  a  hasty 
line  which  Mrs.  O'Brien  st  it  at  once 
down  to  the  waiting  messenger. 

"  Since  you  are  so  suddenly  snatched 
from  me,"  commented  the  lady,  this 
business  transacted,  "  since  you  prefer 
the  society  of  Another,  Dr.  Hartlieb,  I 
don't  see  but  I  may  as  well  go  to  my 
Club  which  meets  at  this  hour." 

"  The  thing  to  do,  lady  love,  beyond 
a  doubt,"  said  her  husband  and  she 
left  without  observing  the  puzzled  ab- 
straction in  his  eyes. 

"  A  rapid  bouleversement,  my 
friend,"  said  Hartlieb,  turning  for  an 
instant  as  he  followed  her  from  the 
room. 


177 


XV 

AT  four  o'clock  Mrs.  O'Brien  sat 
with  a  dozen  other  women  in 
the    fragrant    warmth    of    the 
richly   appointed  library   of  a  Ridge 
Road  mansion,  listening  soberly  to  an 
essay   on   Charles   Lamb,    read   by   a 
pretty  woman  in  gorgeous  raiment. 

At  the  sound  of  a  light  step  Mrs. 
O'Brien  turned  her  head  and  seeing 
Noelle  seeking  to  slip  into  the  room 
unobserved,  caught  her  hand  and  with 
her  charming,  wilful  smile  drew  her 
down  to  a  place  on  the  sofa  by  her 
side. 

The  reader  lowered  her  manuscript, 
having  finished,  ten  minutes  later  and 
yielded  her  chair  to  another  who  was 
178 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

to  take  up  the  subject  of  Mary  Lamb. 
There  was  a  moment's  interval. 

"  How  lovely  to  see  you  here,  girl," 
cried  Mrs.  O'Brien  affectionately.  "  I 
suppose  your  classes  are  over  for  the 
day." 

"  Yes,  and  my  last  one  was  by  good 
luck  just  across  the  street.  It  was  late, 
but  I  did  want  to  run  in  for  a  little 
while." 

"  Isn't  it  fine  Dr.  Hartlieb  has  come 
back?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  he  had,"  Noelle  said 
starting  nervously  as  if  to  rise,  then 
dropping  back. 

"  Oh,  didn't  you?  Yes  indeed,  and 
he  has  given  me  the  cut  direct.  He 
has  gone  to  tea  with  your  mother  this 
afternoon  instead  of  driving  with  me. 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  " 

As  Noelle  made  no  response  Mrs. 
O'Brien  went  on. 

"  Your  mother  is  absolutely  the 
179 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

most  fascinating  little  lady,  Noelle! 
Men  are  always  wild  over  her,  aren't 
they?  Here  conies  Katy  with  a  charm- 
ing billet  doux  from  her  to  Hartlieb, 
the  potent  grave  and  reverend  Doctor, 
bidding  him  come  and  talk  of  old  times 
over  a  cup  of  tea,  and,  v oila,  every 
other  plan  is  thrown  over— 

Noelle  had  risen.  Mrs.  O'Brien  saw 
then  that  she  was  for  some  obscure 
reason  agitated. 

"  What,  not  leaving? '  she  cried. 
"  Not  going  to  stay  and  hear  the  story 
of  poor  Mary  Lamb?  ' 

"  Hush,  please  dear!  I  would  rather 
not  hear  about  Mary  Lamb.  Strange 
isn't  it?  I  ought  really  to  help  Maman 
if  she  has  a  guest,  you  see.  I  know  it 
would  be  better—"  here  Noelle  ceased 
her  would-be  unconcerned  but  frag- 
mentary explanations  and  quietly  es- 
caped to  the  dressing  room.  A  mo- 
ment later  Mrs.  O'Brien  from  the  win- 
180 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

dow  saw  her  walk  rapidly  away,  anxi- 
ety plainly  stamped  upon  her  face. 

As  she  passed  on  alone  through  the 
streets  in  snow  and  wind  Noelle  as- 
sured herself  constantly  that  her  name- 
less anxiety  was  without  foundation 
but  no  assurance  sufficed  to  silence  the 
questions  which  disturbed  her.  Why 
should  her  mother,  after  repeated  dec- 
larations of  her  dislike  and  distrust  of 
Dr.  Hartlieb,  of  her  desire  never  to  see 
him  again,  send  Katy  post  haste,  in  her 
absence  and  unknown  to  her,  to  invite 
him  to  the  house?  Why  her  abnormal 
fear  and  her  inconsequent  seeking  of 
her  husband's  best  friend?  What 
could  it  mean  but  fresh  trouble?  the 
trouble  which  had  shadowed  all  her 
girlhood  and  had  forbidden  love  and 
all  the  best  of  life  to  her? 

Turning  a  corner  by  an  apothe- 
cary's, Noelle  was  startled  afresh  to 
see  Katy  herself  coming  from  the  shop, 
181 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

evidently  in  great  haste,  a  small  parcel 
in  her  hand.  Calling  her  name,  Noelle 
caught  up  with  her  and  asked  breath- 
lessly what  she  had  come  for. 

"  For  some  medicine  for  your 
mother,  Miss  Noelle,"  said  the  girl, 
who  was  white  and  breathless  with 
excitement.  "  That  Dr.  Hartlieb  sent 
me.  He  is  there  with  her  now." 

"  Tell  me  every  single  thing,  Katy, 
that  you  know,"  said  Noelle  low  and 
urgently,  and  they  hurried  on  side  by 
side,  Katy  telling  as  they  went  in 
broken,  disconnected  phrases  what  had 
happened  at  the  cottage. 

The  chain  of  events  was  as  follows: 
During  the  morning,  while  Noelle  had 
been  out,  Mrs.  Motte  had  appeared 
nervous  and  excited;  she  had  spent 
hours  searching  for  something  through 
trunks  and  boxes  in  the  dark,  low- 
roofed  store-room  under  the  eaves. 
Katy  had  begged  her  not  to  stay  in 
182 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

the  cold,  to  let  her  find  what  she 
wanted,  but  she  became  irritable  at 
every  such  suggestion. 

Noelle  remembered  that  her  mother 
had  looked  unusually  careworn  at 
luncheon  and  had  hardly  spoken.  She 
went  from  the  table  to  take  her  nap 
as  usual,  and  Noelle  supposed  her 
asleep  when  she  again  left  the  house 
for  her  afternoon  lessons,  charging 
Katy  to  take  the  closest  care  of  her. 
She  now  found  that,  as  soon  as  she  was 
gone,  her  mother  had  again  begun  her 
unexplained  searching  which  had  ended 
at  the  mahogany  secretary  in  the 
dining  room.  When  Katy  came  in  to 
put  away  silver  she  saw  her  bending 
over  a  disordered  open  drawer,  a  small 
filagree  silver  case  in  her  hand  which 
she  hid  hurriedly  in  the  front  of  her 
dress.  The  girl  noticed  that  she  was 
much  flushed,  but  sat  down  at  once  at 
her  desk  and  wrote  a  note,  sending  her 

183 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

in  haste  to  deliver  it  at  Mr.  O'Bri- 
en's. 

On  her  return  Katy  found  that  Mrs. 
Motte  had  prepared  the  small  teak- 
wood  table  in  the  parlour  for  afternoon 
tea  with  fastidious  care  and  was  up- 
stairs dressing.  When  she  read  the  note 
which  Katy  brought  her  she  turned 
so  white  that  the  girl  thought  she  was 
about  to  fall.  From  that  moment  she 
seemed  extremely  confused,  unable 
to  dress  without  help,  or  to  speak 
intelligibly.  Within  a  half-hour  Dr. 
Hartlieb  rang  the  bell  and  was  received 
in  the  parlour.  In  the  tiny  house  it 
was  impossible  for  Katy  to  avoid  hear- 
ing what  Mrs.  Motte  said  in  the  con- 
versation which  followed,  as  her  voice 
was  unnaturally  raised,  and  she  re- 
peated certain  phrases  over  and  over, 
such  as,  "  Noelle  does  not  want 
money!  "  "  Promise  me  not  to  tell 


184 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

her!  '  "  Do  you  want  to  make  me  a 
stranger  to  my  child?  ' 

In  a  few  moments  Mrs.  Motte  came 
out  from  the  parlour  and  asked  Katy 
if  the  tea  was  ready.  The  girl  was 
greatly  alarmed  at  her  wild  expression 
as  she  snatched  a  silver  water  jug  from 
her  hand  and  turned  back  to  the  par- 
lour, she  herself  following  with  the 
tray.  Dr.  Hartlieb  stood  beside  the  tea 
table  holding  up,  on  a  level  with  his 
face,  the  same  tiny  case  of  green  glass 
set  in  silver  filagree  which  Katy  had 
seen  Mrs.  Motte  take  from  the  secre- 
tary drawer.  It  appeared  to  have  been 
lying  partly  hidden  under  some  cup  or 
plate  on  the  table  and  there  discovered 
by  him. 

The  box,  opened  by  a  spring,  lay  in 
his  hand  and  as  Mrs.  Motte  entered  the 
parlour,  Dr.  Hartlieb  with  a  smile  blew 
from  it  a  small  quantity  of  a  brownish 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

powder  and  said  very  pleasantly  and 
"  easy  like,"  Katy  thought, 

"  Excuse  me,  there  is  a  little  dust  in 
this  box,  Mrs.  Motte.  What  a  charm- 
ing little  thing  it  is.  You  must  have 
brought  it  with  you  from  India." 

As  he  laid  the  box  down  Mrs.  Motte 
sprang  toward  him  and  confronted  him 
with  terror  in  her  eyes,  then  burst  into 
laughter  which  Katy  said  made  her 
cry,  uttered  a  few  incoherent  exclama- 
tions and  fainted.  Dr.  Hartlieb  caught 
her  in  his  arms,  carried  her  up-stairs 
and  laid  her  on  the  bed,  oh,  so  tenderly, 
Katy  said,  as  if  she  had  been  a  baby 
he  had  put  to  sleep;  then  sent  her  run- 
ning to  the  apothecary  for  something 
he  wrote  the  name  of  on  a  paper. 

Noelle  sat  by  the  bed  as  she  had  sat 
for  long  hours;    Doctor  Hartlieb  was 
in  the  shadows  beyond.     Mrs.  Motte 
opened  her  eyes  and  smiled  faintly. 
186 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  I  had  a  terrible  dream,  dear,"  she 
whispered.  "  Sing  the  pilgrim  song; 
then  I  shall  rest." 

Sweet  and  strong  and  steady  No- 
elle's  voice  sounded  through  the  mys- 
terious stillness: 

"  Far,  far  away,  like  bells  at  evening  pealing, 
The  voice  of  Jesus  sounds  o'er  land  and  sea ; 
And  laden  souls,  by  thousands  meekly  stealing, 
Kind  Shepherd,  turn  their  weary  steps  to  thee. 

Angels  of  Jesus,  Angels  of  light, 

Singing  to  welcome  the  pilgrims  of  the  night." 


Afterwards,  in  the  room  below,  No- 
elle  spoke  with  Dr.  Hartlieb.  Calm- 
ness as  of  victory  was  in  the  girl's 
eyes ;  tears  would  have  their  way  later. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  him,  "  there 
were  two  hard  years,— hopeless  almost, 
—after  my  father's  death.  Since  then 
she  has  been  perfectly  herself.  But 
never,  at  the  worst,  was  fear  of  harm 
from  her  before.  That  powder— oh, 
187 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Dr.  Hartlieb,  were  you  really  in  dan- 
ger? What  did  it  mean?  What  was 
it?" 

"  It  was  nothing  more  than  a  strong 
Indian  opiate,  my  girl;  not  a  safe  thing, 
but  in  that  amount  not  dangerous.  It 
meant  simply  an  image  in  her  '  dread- 
ful dream  '  of  my  having  come  to  de- 
stroy her  peace,  your  love.  Let  it 
never  be  spoken  of  again.  I  foresaw 
something  of  that  nature  when  I  found 
her  condition.  It  was  to  be  expected. 
What  grieves  me  most  is  that  this  col- 
lapse should  have  been  brought  on  by 
my  coming." 

"  It  was  liable  to  recur  at  some 
time,  they  told  me.  I  have  known 
that  all  these  years,  but  I  hoped  for 
the  happy  outcome." 

"  Had  she  spoken  of  me,  of  my  let- 
ters, before  my  coming?  r 

"  Never.  I  knew  that  several  times 
she  received  letters  from  India  of 
1 88 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

which  she  said  nothing.  Once  I  saw 
her  burn  one  unopened.  After  these 
came,  I  recall  now,  she  was  often  mel- 
ancholy, sometimes  a  little  excited. 
After  you  arrived  I  saw  she  was  in 
constant  fear.  But  why  was  she  in  such 
fear  of  you?  To  that  I  could  never  gain 
the  least  clue.  It  was  all  a  mystery, 
perhaps  all  a  delusion.  I  cannot  un- 
derstand. " 

"  What  she  feared  was  all  delusion; 
what  remains  is  good  and  beautiful. 
Soon  you  shall  understand.  Now  will 
you  promise,  Noelle,  to  thank  God  to- 
morrow, as  I  know  you  do  to-day,  for 
our  good  friend  Death?  ' 

"  I  promise." 


XVI 

"  TT  THOUGHT  you  would  give  me 
my  luncheon  to-day,  Mrs. 

A  O'Brien." 

"  Truly  it  is  a  comfort  to  have  you 
come.  I  am  chilled  through,  body  and 
spirit.  I  want  some  one  to  talk  with 
and  Matt  has  not  quite  reached  the 
point  of  coming  down  to  the  table." 

An  hour  before  these  two,  Mrs. 
O'Brien  and  Dr.  Tiffany,  had  stood 
with  a  small  company  gathered  about 
an  open  grave  in  a  storm  swept  ceme- 
tery. 

"  So  Noelle  did  not  come  back  with 

you?  " 

"  No.  I  came  from  that  desolate 
place  all  alone."  The  lady  shivered 
slightly. 

190 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  May  I  go  up  and  speak  to  Matt 
for  just  a  moment  ?  ' 

"  By  all  means.  I  know  he  wants  to 
see  you,  Dr.  Tiffany.  But  don't  stay 
up  there  long,  please.  Luncheon  is 
really  ready.'* 

A  few  moments  later  Mrs.  O'Brien 
and  her  unexpected  guest  were  seated 
tete-a-tete  at  a  delicately  appointed 
table,  with  the  fragrance  of  many  roses 
and  the  leaping  flames  of  a  hearth-fire 
to  combat  the  winter  within  them  and 
without. 

"  You  were  asking  about  Noelle," 
Mrs.  O'Brien  said,  as  soon  as  grace  was 
over;  "  the  sweet  thing  asked  to  be  al- 
lowed to  go  to  her  own  little  home  quite 
alone,  except  for  Katy,  for  to-day. " 

Dr.  Tiffany  nodded  with  gravely  ten- 
der approval. 

"  Probably  that  is  better  for  one  like 
her,  being  clear  in  her  spiritual  vision 
and  very  sure  in  her  poise,  singularly 
191 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

so  in  view  of  her  family  history.,  But 
don't  let  her  stay  alone  too  long,  Mrs. 
O'Brien.  The  child  is,— I  suppose,— 
frail  human  after  all,  though  at  times 
it  seems  hard  to  believe  it." 

"  Did  she  not  look  wholly  angelic  as 
she  stood  there,  so  alone,  so  brave,  so 
young,  this  noon?  '  Mrs.  O'Brien's 
voice  shook  a  little.  "  Do  not  imagine 
that  I  shall  leave  her  alone  long,  Dr. 
Tiffany.  I  am  going  to  send  .the  car- 
riage for  her  at  five  o'clock,  for  her 
and  Dr.  Hartlieb.  He  will  be  there  by 
that  time." 

"  Oh,  Dr.  Hartlieb  is  to  see  Noelle 
this  afternoon?  r 

"  Yes.  He  has  to  see  her,  for  he 
is  to  tell  her— everything,"  and  Mrs. 
O'Brien  drew  a  breath  as  of  relief  from 
prolonged  tension.  "  It  simply  cannot 
be  put  off  any  longer,"  she  added. 

"  And  what  is  '  everything'?  I  be- 
lieve it  is  time  that  I  should  be  en- 
192 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

lightened  also.  We  have  all  been  at 
the  centre  or  circumference  of  a  mys- 
terious,—in  the  end,  a  tragic,— drama, 
but  I  confess  I  have  been  too  much  at 
the  circumference  myself  to  interpret 
much  of  what  I  have  dimly  seen." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  tragedy,"  said  Mrs. 
O'Brien  thoughtfully,  resting  her  chin 
on  one  hand,  and  turning  away  from 
the  food  which  she  had  all  along  failed 
to  notice.  "  A  tragedy  of  egotism,  a 
fearful  admonition." 

"  Ah!  Is  it  so?  However  I  must  in- 
sist, tragedy  apart,  dear  lady,  on  your 
eating  a  bit  of  the  chicken  and  taking 
a  glass  of  milk.  You  look  utterly  spent 
and  you  are  not  even  pretending  to 
eat." 

Mrs.  O'Brien  looked  up  with  a  child- 
ish pleading  in  her  beautiful  face. 

"  No,  I  shall  not  let  you  off,"  was  the 
pastor's  inflexible  response.  "  Do  as 
you  are  bid  and,— we  will  proceed." 

193 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

Obediently  and  in  silence  the  lady 
ate  her  morsel,  then,  seeing  that  her 
guest  had  no  more  interest  in  lunching 
than  herself  she  rose  and  led  the  way 
back  to  the  library,  the  maid  following 
them  with  coffee. 

Dr.  Tiffany  dropped  into  a  deep 
wicker  arm  chair,  took  his  cup  from  the 
tray,  then  looked  across  at  his  hostess 
with  an  expression  which  said  plainly 
that  he  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

Mrs.  O'Brien  leaned  her  head  back 
against  the  dark  leather  cushion  of  her 
library  chair  and  drew  her  eyelids  nar- 
rowly in  languid  musing. 

"  Mrs.  Motte,"  she  said  slowly, 
"  was  a  woman  of  quite  phenomenal 
refinement  and  charm,  she  was  pas- 
sionately maternal,  she  would  have 
died  for  Noelle  cheerfully,  but— she 
had  not  the  smallest  scruple  in  exact- 
ing the  girl's  whole  life  as  a  sacrifice 


194 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

to  herself,  and,  Dr.  Tiffany,  after  all, 
she  was  not  Noelle's  mother." 

For  once  the  lines  of  the  clergyman's 
massive  and  imperturbable  face  re- 
laxed to  the  betrayal  of  a  poignant 
amazement,  but  he  did  not  speak. 

Eapidly  Mrs.  O'Brien  set  forth  the 
facts  of  Noelle's  birth,  adoption,  the 
acknowledgment  of  her  by  Lord  Sta- 
tham  and  his  bequest,  sent  through  Dr. 
Hartlieb  and  rejected  by  Mrs.  Motte. 

Dr.  Tiffany  listened  with  intense  at- 
tention, swift  perceptions  and  deduc- 
tions leaping  to  life  in  his  mind. 

"  Noelle  then  is  released  from  her 
vow  never  to  marry."  This  was  his 
supreme  conclusion,  the  tale  being 
told.  But  the  sudden  lustre  in  his 
eyes  faded  even  as  it  rose,  the  thought 
of  Dane  dimming  the  joy  into  which 
he  could  enter  only  as  a  man  defeated 
may  rejoice  in  the  victory  of  the  man 
who  wins. 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

11  This  explains  many  things,  Mrs. 
O'Brien/'  he  remarked,  after  brief 
silence,  with  an  effort  of  energy. 
"  Yes,  many  things." 

"  It  explains  obviously,  in  view  of 
the  tyranny  of  Mrs.  Motte 's  love  for 
Noelle,"  she  returned,  "  her  curious, 
abnormal  dread  of  Dr.  Hartlieb  and 
the  revelation  he  had  come  to  make 
to  the  child.  But  it  does  not  explain 
her  aversion  to  Mr.  Dane,  her  effort 
to  keep  him  away  from  Noelle.  That 
can  only  be  interpreted,  it  seems  to  me, 
by  the  one  clue  which  fits  every  turn 
of  this  strange  labyrinth,— the  lady's 
incredible,  consuming  selfishness." 

"  Speak  gently  of  the  dead,  Cor- 
nelia," said  Dr.  Tiffany  quietly. 

She  bent  her  head,  rebuked,  and  was 
silent. 

"  He  that  is  without  sin  among  you 
let  him  first  cast  a  stone  at  her." 

The  words  were  murmured  as  if  the 
196 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

speaker  repeated  them  unconsciously, 
lost  in  thought. 

"  Some  of  us  are  erring  more  sadly 
than  the  poor  soul  who  has  just  out- 
soared  the  level  of  our  night.  Her 
sins  are  forgiven,  be  sure;  she  loved 
much.  How  about  the  consuming  self- 
ishness of  some  of  us  others,  more  op- 
pressive, maybe,  than  was  hers,  of  us 
who  have  the  light  of  reason  to  re- 
strain our  impulses,  to  guide  us?  ' 

"  The  light  of  reason?  "  cried  Mrs. 
O'Brien,  painfully  startled  and  per- 
plexed. "  Surely  you  do  not  fancy 
that  poor  Mrs.  Motte— 

"  I  do  not  fancy.  The  facts  are  sor- 
rowful enough.  I  had  taken  it  for 
granted  that  Noelle  would  have  told 
you,  as  she  has  told  me,  the  story  of 
Mrs.  Motte 's  past,  of  her  recurrent 
insanity. " 

"  Not  a  word,"  replied  Mrs.  O'Brien, 
now  strongly  agitated.  "  If  this  is 
197 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

true  Noelle  is  even  more  wonderful 
than  I  knew." 

"  She  has  had  need  and  occasion  to 
be  wonderful.  Mrs.  Motte,  years  ago, 
after  the  death  of  her  husband,  was 
acutely  insane  for  a  year  or  two.  You 
can  see  that  it  has  been  a  stern  enough 
situation  for  a  girl  of  Noelle 's  age,  all 
along,  and  particularly  during  these 
last  few  weeks.  Mrs.  Motte  had,  sup- 
posedly, recovered  her  mental  balance, 
yet  there  was  always  an  underlying 
excitability  which  Noelle  discovered 
was  stirred  by  any  mention  of  Mr. 
Dane  or  Dr.  Hartlieb,  the  two  objects 
of  her  morbid  dread.  With  Dr.  Hart- 
lieb her  excitement  in  the  end  took 
the  form  of  an  outbreak  of  homi- 
cidal mania.  Being  in  a  state  of  phys- 
ical exhaustion  the  reaction  killed 
her." 

"  How  terrible,  and  how  completely 


198 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

undreamed  of!    I  supposed  Mrs.  Motte 
died  from  a  sudden  shock." 
"  Just  as  well.    She  did,  in  fact." 
"  But— can  you  tell  me  more?  "  fal- 
tered   Mrs.    O'Brien.      "  I    am    sure 
Noelle    would   be    willing.      I    almost 
wonder  that  Dr.  Hartlieb  has  not  said 
a  word." 

"  He  never  will.  Noelle  gave  me  the 
barest  outline.  You  perceive  that  up 
to  this  moment  even  she  is  herself  un- 
able to  discern  any  basis  for  her 
mother's  mania  of  fear  of  Hartlieb. 
She  only  knows  the  fact.  They  have 
traced  back  and  found  it  clear  at  least 
that  this  fear  culminated  in  a  sudden 
onset  of  emotional  insanity.  When 
Mrs.  Motte  sent  for  Hartlieb  that  af- 
ternoon, I  can  now  see  perfectly,— 
since  you  have  supplied  the  missing 
links,— it  was  with  the  determination 
to  persuade  him  to  go  back  to  India 


199 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

without  making  known  this  mission  of 
his  to  Noelle.  Failing  that  she  ap- 
pears to  have  fixed  it  in  her  mind  to 
give  him,  in  a  cup  of  tea,  an  Indian 
powder,  a  strong  narcotic,  which  she 
believed  of  fatal  potency.  Of  course 
it  was  a  perfectly  insane  purpose,  and 
the,  fact  that  she  was  mistaken  in  the 
probable  effects  of  the  powder  was 
only  in  proportion  to  the  exaggeration 
of  ideas  characteristic  of  her  condi- 
tion." 

"  How  did  Dr.  Hartlieb  guess  such 
a  wild  project?  How  did  he  thwart 
itf  " 

"  I  fancy  it  was  not  difficult  to  con- 
jecture it,  for  a  man  of  his  experience, 
although  he  had  never,  until  that  in- 
terview, suspected  Mrs.  Motte *s  san- 
ity. I  do  not  know  the  details  but 
simply,  when  the  lady  left  the  room 
for  a  moment,  his  suspicions  being 
aroused  and  the  possibility  of  homi- 
200 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

cidal  mania  suggesting  itself  on  the 
instant,  he  glanced  over  the  things  on 
the  tea  table,  half  expecting  to  find 
something  indicative  of  a  desperate 
purpose.  She  returned  just  as  he 
threw  away  the  powder,  treating  it  as 
if  it  were  a  matter  of  no  consequence; 
but  she,  seeing  her  poor  little  melo- 
dramatic plot  detected,  flew  into  a 
climax  of  excitement,  followed  almost 
at  once  by  collapse.  Alas,  poor  lady! 
Truly  it  is  a  pitiful  story!  ' 

"It  is  inconceivable!  '  exclaimed 
Mrs.  O'Brien.  "  Such  a  gentle,  shrink- 
ing, delicate  woman!  I  simply  cannot 
make  myself  believe  it." 

Dr.  Tiffany  raised  his  eyebrows  ex- 
pressively. 

"It  is  not  necessary  to  believe  it," 
he  returned  quietly.  "  However,  since 
it  chances  to  be  true  it  is  a  mighty  aid 
in  reconciling  Noelle  to  the  sudden 
end  of  a  life  which  could  not,  in  the 

201 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

nature   of   things,   fail   to  be   full   of 
suffering." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see.  Oh  what  a  merci- 
ful release,  and  oh,  Dr.  Tiffany,  the 
joy  of  knowing  that  there  is  no  hered- 
itary taint— that  my  poor  girl  may 
know  her  real  parentage  this  very 
day,  may  know  that  she  is  released 
from  that  cruel  bondage!  Do  you  sup- 
pose Dr.  Hartlieb  is  with  her  now  I ' 
Mrs.  O'Brien's  mind  was  now  leaping 
to  conclusions.  Her  cheeks,  hitherto 
unnaturally  pale,  had  suddenly  flushed 
high  and  she  made  rapid  gestures  elo- 
quent of  gratitude  and  release  with  her 
slender  hands. 

"  You  are  getting  excited,  Cornelia," 
admonished  Dr.  Tiffany.  "  For  the 
sake  of  all  things  good  avoid  exagger- 
ated emotions.  Can't  we  get  that  les- 
son at  least  out  of  all  this?  ' 

"  I  will  try,"  was  the  meek  reply. 
"  But  do,  Dr.  Tiffany,  tell  me  when 
202 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Noelle  first  confided  this  trouble  to 
you." 

"  You  remember  the  night  at  Mrs. 
Bishop's  when  Noelle  gave  us  her  con- 
ception of  the  Hindu  woman?  ' 

"  Remember?  I  should  hardly  for- 
get. And  you  took  her  home  that 
night,— pulled  wires,  I  remember,  to 
obtain  the  chance. " 

"  Precisely."  Dr.  Tiffany's  expres- 
sion was  inscrutable  now.  "  My  rea- 
sons for  this  particular  piece  of  wire- 
pulling were  perhaps  a  shade  less  ma- 
licious than  usual  with  me.  I  had  seen 
Dane  and  seen  Noelle— just  broken 
apart  after  an  interview  which  left 
marks  of  significance  and  pain." 

Mrs.  O'Brien  bent  a  little  forward 
now,  her  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the 
clergyman's  face,  wonder  dawning  vis- 
ibly in  them. 

"  I  saw  that  what  youngsters  of 
their  age  call  love  had  got  them  in  a 
203 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

mortal  grip  and  that  there  was  some 
barrier  in  the  way.  This  I  took  to  be 
an  old  childish  vow  of  Noelle's  girl- 
hood, never  to  marry.  I  had  run  up 
against  the  same  thing  not  so  long  ago 
in  propria  persona,  the  difference  be- 
ing that  she  and  I  were  not  for  taking 
ourselves  quite  so  seriously.  Out- 
wardly at  least.  Well,  as  you  can 
gather,  I  thought  it  rather  a  pity  for 
two  young  lives  to  be  blighted  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  so  I  decided  to  con- 
stitute myself  Noelle's  fatherly  friend 
and  talk  her  out  of  her  sentimental 
scruples  which  I  took  to  have  origi- 
nated in  the  death  of  some  gentle  swain 
of  her  teens." 

"  Dr.  Tiffany!  and  you  pretend  to 
be  an  egotist!  At  last  you  are  un- 
masked." 

"  Rubbish,    Mrs.    O'Brien,    begging 
your   pardon.     My   own   chance    was 
gone,  you  see.    I  stood  to  lose  nothing 
204 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

or  I  shouldn't  have  done  it,  be  sure. 
And  so,  when  I  urged  Dane's  suit  in 
somewhat  cogent  terms  as  we  drove 
down  the  avenue  that  night,  the  girl 
laid  bare  that  pitiful  story  of  their 
past,  the  shadow  resting  on  the  pres- 
ent, the  clutch  on  her  future,  from  the 
hereditary  taint." 

"  And  you  supposing  her  correct  in 
the  premises  could  not  conscientiously 
argue  her  down  after  you  knew,"  re- 
flected Mrs.  O'Brien. 

"  No.  I  thought  she  was  ethically 
right,  scientifically  right,  though  tax- 
ing her  human  nature  and  Dane's 
something  beyond  the  limit." 

"  Does  Mr.  Dane  know  the  real  rea- 
son why  Noelle  would  not  marry?  ' 

"  Oh  yes,  that  was  his  due.  She 
was  forced  to  tell  him.  He  was  pre- 
pared for  it  in  a  way,  for  this  reason: 
Mrs.  Motte  had  stolen  from  her  own 
house  one  night  after  she  was  sup- 
205 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

posed  to  have  retired  and  had  come 
to  our  parish  house  in  a  public  car- 
riage, trying  to  find  Dr.  Hartlieb.  She 
seems  to  have  vibrated  between  an 
intense  desire  to  see  and  sound  him 
as  to  his  purposes  and  an  equally 
strong  determination  to  avoid  him. 
That  night  the  positive  impulse  was 
driving  her,  poor  soul.  She  was  so 
evidently  under  the  influence  of  some 
morbid  prepossession,  her  manner  was 
so  singular,  her  action  so  little  suited 
to  her  character,  that  Dane,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  parish  house  and 
met  her,  half  feared  some  serious 
trouble." 

"  How  did  Noelle  ever  dare  to  bring 
Mrs.  Motte  here  and  establish  her  un- 
der the  circumstances?  ' 

"  Well,  you  see  the  woman  had  been 
pronounced  cured  and  it  was  hoped 
permanently.  She  was  lonely  and  un- 
happy apart  from  Noelle.  The  bond 
206 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

between  the  two  was  as  strong,  as  in- 
destructible, as  the  bond  between 
Charles  and  Mary  Lamb.  Only  there 
were  differences.  Mrs.  Motte,  for  in- 
stance, never  suspected  her  own  in- 
firmity. She  knew  that  Noelle  in- 
tended never  to  marry,  in  fact  the  girl 
had  promised  her  she  would  not,  but 
this  appeared  to  Mrs.  Motte  a  per- 
fectly natural  procedure  on  account  of 
the  supreme  and  absorbing  character 
of  their  relation  as  mother  and  daugh- 
ter." 

"  Ah  Noelle,  Noelle!— she  has  been 
heart-breakingly  wise,  tragically  ten- 
der for  every  one  but  herself." 

With  these  words  Mrs.  O'Brien 
burst  into  tears.  Dr.  Tiffany  suffered 
her  to  find  this  relief  without  inter- 
ruption from  him.  For  once  at  least 
he  seemed  to  regard  tears  as  a  justifi- 
able indulgence. 

Presently  he  rose  and  measured  the 
207 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

room  with  long,  slow  steps,  his  hands 
thrust  deep  in  his  pockets.  Mrs. 
O'Brien,  lifting  tear-dimmed  eyes,  saw, 
or  fancied  she  saw,  a  vague  change  in 
his  bearing,  in  the  lines  of  face  and 
figure,— a  drooping,  dispirited  weari- 
ness. The  hopeless  sadness  of  the  sit- 
uation for  him  smote  her  as  it  never 
had  when  the  mask  of  satire  and  cyn- 
icism had  concealed  the  heart  of  the 
man.  The  pain  of  it  was  charged  with 
a  solemnity  which  put  an  end  to  the 
slighter  emotion  to  which  she  had  just 
yielded. 

She  rose  and  intercepted  him  on  his 
return  from  a  journey  to  the  far  re- 
cesses of  the  library,  with  an  express- 
ive outstretched  hand. 

He  took  it  in  silence  and  smiled 
faintly,  then  glancing  at  the  clock  in 
the  corner  he  said,  releasing  the  hand, 

"  Three  o'clock  is  it?  Dane  next,— 
Dane  to  tell  me  officially  that  he  ab- 
208 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

hors  the  excellency  of  Jacob  and  hates 
his  palaces,  and  is  about  to  turn  to  the 
Gentiles. " 

"  What  can  you  mean!  Good  bye  if 
you  must  go." 

"  Nothing,  nothing  but  words.  Only, 
—good  bye  dear  lady,— it  takes  a  good 
deal  of  a  man  to  live  this  life  even  half 
way  decently.  Notice  that." 


209 


xvn 

WHEN  Noelle  turned  from  the 
new  made  grave  that  morn- 
ing, William  Dane  took  her 
hand  and  led  her  to  her  carriage. 

She  did  not  know  whose  hand  hers 
rested  in  until  the  carriage  door  was 
closed.  Then  she  lifted  her  eyes  and 
saw  Dane's  face  white  and  solemn 
with  the  stress  of  his  sympathy.  Tears, 
warm  and  free,  sprang  to  her  eyes  for 
the  first  time. 

"  If  I  could  only  help  you!  "  he  said 
under  his  breath. 

"  I  am  helped,"  she  replied  simply. 
"In  all  this  God  is  very  present." 

"  But  I  may  see  you— soon,"  he 
said  urgently. 

"  Yes,  once  before  you  leave  for 
India.  Good  bye." 

210 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Her  look  said  as  plainly  as  words 
that  one  meeting  before  the  final  sepa- 
ration would  be  all  that  she  could 
bear. 

Dane  drew  back,  then  stood  to  watch 
the  carriage  as  it  rolled  away;  had  a 
glimpse  of  Katy,  the  only  person  with 
Noelle,  even  saw  her  clasp  her  mis- 
tress's small,  black-gloved  hand  with 
ardent  tenderness  in  both  her  own. 
He  turned  then,  blindly  almost,  into  a 
sombre,  fir-locked  by-path  and  walked 
through  its  untrodden  snow  to  the  re- 
mote outskirts  of  the  burial  ground, 
that  he  might  escape  speech  with 
others  of  the  small  company. 

Dane  had  read,  with  a  tumult  of 
revolt,  Noelle's  letter  in  which  she  had 
disclosed  the  barrier  between  them. 
Deeper  thinking  and  a  more  unselfish 
apprehension  of  the  girl's  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility in  the  matter  had  brought 
him,  however,  to  submission  to  her 
211 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

will.  Then,  swift  and  sharp,  had  come 
the  shock  of  Mrs.  Motte 's  death.  One, 
the  only  visible,  barrier  between  him 
and  Noelle  was  removed,  and  again  he 
had  been  forced  to  fight  for  the  moral 
conquest  which  he  imagined  won. 
And  now,  as  he  saw  Noelle  surrounded 
by  the  stern  presentments  of  death, 
with  the  only  human  being  who  had 
claimed  her  or  undertaken  for  her 
hidden  for  ever  from  her  sight,  the  con- 
flict was  renewed  in  full  force.  For  as 
he  saw  the  girl  in  her  patience,  her 
sorrow,  her  piteous  loneliness,  all  the 
strength  of  his  manhood  rose  in  a 
storm  of  rebellion  against  the  condi- 
tions, so  intangible  yet  so  tyrannous, 
which  forbade  him,  who  loved  her  su- 
premely, to  stand  by  her  now,  to  enter 
into  her  sorrow,  to  fill  up  the  empti- 
ness of  her  life. 

Intensely  preoccupied,  Dane  reached 
a  small  iron  gate  which  gave  access 
212 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

through  the  massive  wall  of  the  place 
to  a  secluded  lane.  He  found  the  gate 
locked,  an  incident  to  which  he  was 
wholly  indifferent.  Half  mechanically 
he  retraced  his  steps  and  walked  for 
hours  between  the  white-sheeted 
graves,  by  the  heavily  bordered  alleys 
of  the  silent  enclosure,  scarcely  real- 
izing his  surroundings,  and  the  flight 
of  time  not  at  all.  Faint  with  hunger 
and  spent  with  emotion  he  came  out 
at  length  through  a  vaulted  entrance 
upon  an  unfamiliar  suburban  street. 
He  had  aroused  to  a  sense  of  his  re- 
moteness from  the  centre  of  things,  to 
the  fact  that  he  had  eaten  nothing 
since  his  morning  coffee  and  that  long, 
tiresome  miles  lay  between  him  and 
home.  He  walked  on  down  the  street, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  high  cemetery 
wall,  hardly  knowing  in  which  direc- 
tion to  look  for  a  car  line.  A  big  burly 
labourer  busily  at  work  laying  a  bit  of 

213 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

pavement  over  which  Dane  must  make 
his  way,  looked  up,  then,  touching  his 
hat,  rose  awkwardly  to  his  feet  with 
the  greeting, 

"  Mr.  Dane!  Pleased  to  see  you, 
sir."  Dane  recognized  Katy  Duffy 's 
father  and  returned  his  welcome  with 
a  wan  though  cordial  smile.  Duffy's 
reformation  had  been  Dane's  real 
achievement  in  Pemberton.  By  his 
personal  efforts  and  influence  the  la- 
tent good  in  the  man  had  been  aroused; 
he  had  quit  drinking  and  had  become 
a  decent  sort  of  fellow  and  a  capable 
labourer. 

"  Something  seems  to  ail  you,  sir," 
Duffy  remarked  next,  looking  with 
surprise  at  the  minister's  haggard 
face.  "  Was  you  to  the  funeral,  the 
lady's  funeral  where  my  Katy  works, 
that  turned  in  yonder  a  spell  ago?  ': 

Dane  nodded. 

"  Then  it  looks  as  though  you  hain't 
214 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Matte 

had  a  chance  to  take  a  bite,  if  you've 
had  to  stay  there  among  them  tombs 
ever  senst.  I  suppose  it's  up  to  you 
parsons  to  stan'  by  and  set  up  a  few 
prayers  extry  when  the  folks  are 
swells.  Set  down,  Mr.  Dane.  You 
ain't  feelin'  well  for  a  fact." 

Dane  dropped  obediently  upon  a 
cask  of  cement  and  watched  without 
curiosity  the  motions  of  his  impromptu 
host  of  the  pavement. 

In  the  gutter  a  small  fire  of  char- 
coal was  burning  in  a  brazier,  for  heat- 
ing irons  with  which  to  loosen  frozen 
stones.  Over  this  fire  Duffy,  with 
clumsy  but  practiced  motions,  hung  a 
tin  can  which  he  had  drawn  from 
under  his  shabby  coat,  laid  on  a  strip 
of  grass  beneath  the  wall.  A  tin  cup 
was  ready  to  hand  and  a  thick  sand- 
wich of  bread  and  cheese  was  produced 
from, — precisely  where  Dane  was  not 
minded  to  inquire.  He  rather  thought 

215 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

Duffy's  trouser  pocket.  In  two  min- 
utes the  cup  of  steaming  coffee  and 
the  sandwich  were  silently  presented 
to  him  by  a  stained,  frost-bitten  hand 
with  a  sturdy  kindliness  which  rose 
superior  to  apology. 

Dane  looked  up  at  the  man's  coarse, 
weather  beaten  features,  a  sense  of 
brotherhood  warming  his  heart  and 
quickening  its  languid  pulsation. 

"  Mighty  good  of  you,  old  fellow." 

"  Don't  say  a  word.  It'll  kinder  hit 
the  spot  mebbe." 

That  was  all.    Duffy  returned  to  his 
mallet   and    crowbar   and   Dane    con- 
sumed his  food  and  drink  with  a  sense 
that  nothing  had  ever  "  hit  the  spot ' 
perfectly  before. 

Duffy,  watching  his  face  furtively, 
saw  its  colour  return  with  a  profound 
sense  of  satisfaction.  He  had  adored 
Dane  ever  since  the  young  minister 
had  knocked  him  down  on  a  certain 
216 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

night  and  the  morning  thereafter  had 
given  him  what  he  himself  described 
as  the  "  hell-fer-sartinest  straight 
goods  of  a  lecture  as  he  'd  ever  listened 
to."  The  chance  to  talk  with  this 
friend  was  eagerly  improved. 

"  Beats  all,  sir,  how  my  Katy  thinks 
the  world  an'  all  of  Miss  Motte,"  he 
began.  "  She'll  never  leave  her  agin, 
never,  not  sence  the  old  lady's  up 
an'  died.  She'll  stick  to  her,  an'  it's 
right  she  should.  Miss  Motte 's  done 
the  square  thing  by  Katy.  It  kinder 
struck  me,  made  me  smile  here  all 
to  myself,  when  the  percession  went 
along  to  the  cemetery  here  just  about 
noon.  I  knew  'twas  doo  to  come 
an'  I  kinder  kep'  my  eyes  open.  An' 
there,  sir,  sure's  I  stan'  here,  in  the 
chief  mourners'  carriage,  on  the  cush- 
ions, set  my  Katy,  a  holdin'  of  Miss 
Motte 's  hand  an'  supportin'  of  her,  as 
you  might  say.  An'  of  course 
217 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

'twouldn't  'ev  done,  not  on  the  way  in, 
fer  Katy  to  have  winked  an  eyelash 
my  way  nor  seemed  to  notice  nothin', 
along  o'  bein'  chief  mourners  an7  sech 
as  that.  But  comin'  out  of  a  buryin' 
ain't  the  same  thing  as  goin'  in.  They 
gen'lly  chirks  up  a  bit,  an'  it's  right 
they  should.  I'd  ben  pleased,  sir,  to 
hev  had  you  see  Katy  when  they  druv 
back  along  an'  passed  me.  Pretty 
close  up  they  come  an'  goin'  slow. 
An'  ef  she  didn't  drop  the  winder  an' 
say,  '  Why  there's  father! '  an'  wave 
out  her  hand  to  me  as  ef,— well,  Mr. 
Dane,  same's  ef  I'd  ~ben  a  father  to 
her—  At  this  point  Duffy  produced 
a  red  cotton  handkerchief  and  took 
refuge  in  its  folds.  Then,  with  a  rau- 
cous cough,  he  turned  back  to  his 
work. 

"  Katy  is  a  good  girl,  Duffy." 
"  She's    a    darned    good    girl,    Mr. 
Dane,    an*    it's    none    of    my    doin's 
218 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

neither,  as  yerself  knows.  The  least 
I  can  do  now  is  to  stand  one  side  an' 
keep  out  the  way  of  her  gittin'  up  in 
the  world  a  little  bit." 

As  Duffy  was  speaking  a  clock  on 
the  tower  of  the  chapel  behind  the 
wall  in  whose  shadow  they  stood, 
struck  the  hour,  three.  With  a  flash 
Dane  remembered  his  appointment  to 
meet  Dr.  Tiffany  for  conference  at  that 
hour.  Calling  back  a  hasty  word  to 
Duffy  he  dashed  down  the  street  and 
boarded  a  passing  car  headed  towards 
the  city's  centre. 


219 


xvni 

IT  was  nearer  four  o'clock  than 
three  when  Dr.  Tiffany's  assistant, 
breathless,  fagged  and  chagrined, 
presented  himself  in  the  luxurious  li- 
brary of  his  principal's  residence  for 
the  interview  for  which  he  had  in- 
tended to  prepare  himself  with  serious 
thought. 

"  Hello,  Dane!"  was  Dr.  Tiffany's 
welcome,  as  he  rose  from  his  place. 
"  Where  have  you  been?  You  look  as 
if  you  had  been  running  to  a  fire." 

Dane  smiled  and  bit  his  lip.  He  was 
dizzily  tired. 

"  I  have  been  at  a  fire,  Dr.  Tiffany," 
he  replied  slowly.  "  I  am  always  at  a 
fire  now,— between  two  fires  for  that 
matter."  Then,  with  a  change  of  tone, 
"  But  I  am  awfully  ashamed,  sir,  to 
220 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

have  failed  of  meeting  my  engagement 
on  time  and  kept  you  waiting.  The 
worst  of  it  is  that  I  haven 't  the  ghost 
of  an  excuse  to  give,  either." 

"  Sit  down,  my  dear  man.  You  are 
as  welcome  as  if  you  had  a  whole  bri- 
gade of  ghosts.  Get  your  breath  and 
rest  a  bit  while  I  do  the  talking.  You 
appear  to  me  to  need  a  chance  to  rally 
to  your  next  ordeal." 

"  Thank  you,  Dr.  Tiffany." 

The  sorrowful  grimness  of  Dane's 
face  relaxed  in  response  to  this  touch 
of  sympathetic  perception.  There  was 
a  moment  of  silence  and  then  Dr.  Tif- 
fany spoke. 

"  I  am  perfectly  well  aware  that  you 
requested  this  interview  to-day  be- 
cause you  wish  to  be  released  from 
your  work  here  and  I  have  an  idea 
that  you  are  thinking  of  India." 

Dane  nodded  and  the  other  went  on. 

"  I    can    say    all    the    conventional 

221 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

things  which  might  be  said  at  such  a 
juncture  with  perfect,  really  with  un- 
usual sincerity.  I  am  extremely  sorry 
to  lose  you;  your  work  has  been  sin- 
gularly effective  in  the  parish,  your 
personality  exceptionally  congenial  to 
myself.  Nevertheless,  if  you  hear  the 
call  to  the  foreign  field  sounding 
louder,  if  you  wish  to  go  'over  into 
Macedonia  and  help  us  '--I  dare  not 
say  you  nay.  And  so  forth,  and  so 
forth.  Consider  all  this  said.  It  is 
perfectly  appropriate,  perfectly  true, 
and,  perfectly  immaterial.  Now  then, 
let  us  get  down  to  the  real  thing." 

Dane  cast  a  swift  glance  over  at  the 
speaker,  who  leaned  back  in  his  great 
arm  chair  and  fingered  an  ivory  paper 
knife  with  careful  deliberation,  his  face 
as  impassive,  as  cynically  benevolent 
as  it  was  wont  to  be.  What  could  be 
coming? 

"  The  real  thing,  Dane,  is  that  you 

222 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

have  had  the  idealist's  dream  of  the 
Church,  of  the  ministry,  of  the  work 
of  both,  and  their  possibilities,— a 
dream  corresponding  very  faintly  to 
the  reality.  Like  every  other  decent 
fellow  who  enters  the  ministry  with 
an  unselfish  purpose  the  awakening  to 
the  hard,  modern  limitations  of  the  life 
you  have  chosen  comes  with  something 
of  a  crash.  The  average  man  swal- 
lows his  surprise,  conceals  his  wounds, 
adjusts  his  necessary  compromises  and 
goes  on  his  way,  not  rejoicing  particu- 
larly, but  making  his  living  at  least. 
You,  being  a  higher  potency  idealist 
than  many,  react  more  strongly,  think 
it  impossible  to  make  the  compromises 
pointedly  indicated,  and  fly  to  evils 
that  you  know  not  of  in  Macedonia, 
hoping  at  least  for  a  chance  there  to 
lay  down  your  life.  In  Calvary  Church 
you  find  conditions  reversed.  You  see 
the  church  called  upon  to  gain  the 
223 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

whole  world  and  lose  its  own  soul. 
Isn't  that  about  it?  " 

For  all  Dane's  experience  of  disillu- 
sion regarding  Dr.  Tiffany  as  a  relig- 
ious force,  the  power  of  the  man's 
complex  personality  never  ceased  to 
impose  itself  upon  him,  never  failed  to 
command  in  him  a  reluctant  reverence. 
It  had  been  farthest  from  the  young 
man's  purpose  to  intrude  at  this  or 
any  other  time  upon  his  superior  a 
suggestion  of  flaw  or  fault  in  the  work 
of  Calvary  Church.  Nevertheless,  the 
present  direct  challenge  striking 
sharply  upon  an  exacerbated  mental 
condition  aroused  his  inner  spirit  of 
antagonism  and  drove  him  into  unfore- 
seen plainness  in  response. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say,  Dr.  Tif- 
fany," he  began,  "  in  criticism  of  Cal- 
vary Church  and  the  methods  em- 
ployed here.  They  seem  to  be  very 
much  like  the  methods  of  the  average 
224 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

American  church  to-day,  competitive 
and  commercial,  I  suppose  neces- 
sarily so.  As  far  as  I  observe,  the 
churches  swing,  in  their  activities, 
only  slightly  beyond  an  orbit  of  self- 
preservation,  self-advancement,  self- 
magnifying.  There  are  sporadic  ex- 
ceptions of  course.  But  you  are  per- 
fectly right ;  I  did  not  enter  the  minis- 
try to  become  a  '  promoter.'  I  am  not 
interested  in  the  Church  as  a  business 
enterprise.  I  am  not  interested  in  it 
as  a  social  club  which  requires  the  best 
club-house  in  the  city  for  the  gratifica- 
tion of  its  ambition  and  proof  of  its 
prosperity,  and  demands  the  very  food 
of  pale-faced  little  children  at  the 
hands  of  their  fathers  and  mothers  to 
build  into  the  marbles  and  mosaics  of 
its  walls." 

Dr.  Tiffany's  eyelids  flickered 
slightly. 

"  Confine  your  comments,  Mr.  Dane, 
225 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

in  this  particular,  to  the  pastor  of  Cal- 
vary Church;  it  is  not  necessary  to 
include  the  people.  Of  course,  as  we 
are  bidding  for  a  luxurious  constitu- 
ency, it  becomes  necessary  to  provide 
luxurious  housing.  That  is  the  size  of 
it.  But,  in  point  of  fact,  this  club 
house  enterprise,  as  you  rather  accu- 
rately characterize  it,  originates  with 
me,  is  pushed  by  me,  is  my  own  crea- 
ture, and  is  to  be  in  the  end,  my  monu- 
ment— 

"  '  All  lapis,  all,  sons!    Else  I  give  the  Pope 
My  villas ! '  — 

You  recall  the  Bishop?  ': 

Dane  frowned  harshly,  seized  with  a 
species  of  moral  consternation  at  the 
cynical  allusion.  Dr.  Tiffany,  wholly 
indifferent  to  the  effect  he  had  pro- 
duced, went  on,  but  with  sudden  force 
of  emphasis. 

"  Mr.  Dane,  here  is  the  point:  in 
226 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

religion  I  am,  to  be  perfectly  honest, 
which  is  well  enough  now  and  then,  an 
epicure;  you  are  a  mystic.  I  am 
rather  in  favour  of  your  seeking  the 
foreign  field,  for  I  confess  to  a  distaste 
for  watching,  at  close  range,  the  proc- 
esses by  which  the  second  becomes  the 
first." 

Dane's  colour  changed  and  his 
hand's  grip  on  the  chair-arm  tightened 
hard. 

"  Religion  has  become  to  me  a  cer- 
tain attitude  of  mind  towards  the  uni- 
verse, philosophical  and  irenic,— for 
the  rest,  a  matter  of  taste.  To  you, 
at  present,  it  is  a  reality,  a  passion, 
a  life." 

Dr.  Tiffany's  voice  had  grown  a  trifle 
husky  and  had  fallen  to  an  unwonted 
key.  Dane  broke  in  with  confused 
protest  and  conflicting  emotion. 

"  I  beg  you,  sir,  not  to  humiliate  me 
by  placing  me  where  I  do  not  belong. 
227 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

I  know  myself,  well  enough,  for  a  raw 
novice.  I  have  not  yet  won  my  spurs. 
I  am  your  inferior.  I  do  not  consti- 
tute myself  your  critic.  Heaven  for- 
give me  if  I  have  seemed  guilty  of  such 
presumption.  And,  if  I  might  venture 
to  say  it,  I  have  begun  to  perceive 
since  I  have  been  here,  that  the  high- 
est virtue  may  not  be  that  convention- 
ally associated  with  the  l  minister  of 
the  Gospel.'  The  supreme  Christly, 
human  strength  must  have  roots  going 
deeper,  self-conquest  rising  higher 
than  anything  which  boys  such  as  I 
have  conceived  of.  You  have  shown 
me  this,  Dr.  Tiffany. "  Dane  rose  as 
he  spoke. 

"  Entirely  unintentionally,  my  dear 
fellow,  I  assure  you,"  replied  the  older 
man  with  his  whimsical  smile.  "  Sit 
down  yet  a  minute.  I  know  you  are 
dead  tired.  It  is  unmerciful  to  keep 
you,  but  I  am  not  quite  done.  You 
228 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

are  groping  your  way  towards  the  new 
conceptions  which  must  dawn.  Some 
of  us  have  missed  the  way,  but,  loving 
this  present  world,  find  satisfaction  in 
giving  up  the  search.  You  have 
spoken  with  severity  of  the  Church  and 
yet  with  force  and  with  some  truth. 
You  remember  how  Gibbon  said  that 
the  influence  of  the  clergy  might  be 
usefully  employed  to  assert  the  rights 
of  humanity,  but  that  very  seldom  has 
the  banner  of  the  church  been  seen  on 
the  side  of  the  people.  It  is  an  old 
story,  an  old  anomaly,  though  here  and 
there  are  signs  of  change.  But  one 
thing  should  be  clear  to  you.  The 
notion  that,  because  a  man  is  identified 
with  obviously  and  professionally  re- 
ligious activities,  he  is  therefore  on 
a  higher  human  and  moral  plane  than 
other  men,  goes  to  pieces.  You  used 
the  term  *  promoter  '  just  now  accu- 
rately. The  promotion  of  ecclesiastical 
229 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

interests  may  be  precisely  as  much  a 
matter  of  business  as  the  promotion  of 
real  estate  or  cotton  mills.  The  man 
pledged  in  all  his  outward  energies  to 
the  pushing  forward  of  Christ's  king- 
dom may  even  become  a  self-righteous 
self-seeker  and  never  know  it.  For  it 
is  a  secret,  unconscious  process,  the 
man  himself  seldom  realizing  how 
subtly  the  lines  of  self-advancement 
and  church-advancement  shade  into 
each  other.  This  is  what  I  had  in  the 
back  of  my  mind  when  I  spoke  of  the 
mystic  developing  into— something 
else." 

"  When  I  decided  to  enter  the  min- 
istry," returned  Dane,  speaking  slowly 
and  with  hesitation,  "  I  did  so  with 
full  faith  that  here  could  be  carried 
out  the  ideals  of  chivalrous  and  unself- 
ish devotion  to  the  common  good.  I 
still  believe  it;  I  love  the  ministry, 
the  church.  But  I  am  awaking  to  the 
230 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

danger  in  our  profession  of  a  narrow, 
mechanical  type  of  self-giving.  Why, 
their  very  religiousness  seems  to  me 
sometimes  to  almost  de-humanize  our 
men !  In  our  virtue  we  stand  off  stiffly, 
no  matter  what  the  crying  need,  if  it 
is  outside  the  precise  lines  of  conven- 
tional evangelical  effort,  or  may  divert 
us  from  professional  advancement.  We 
are  willing  to  sacrifice  ourselves  but  it 
seems  rather  for  the  '  success  '  of  the 
church  than  for  the  saving  of  the  world. 
It  baffles  me,  and  yet  I  believe  the 
church  will  rise  to  its  greater  mission 
yet" 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Dr.  Tiffany  very 
soberly;  "  but  not  until  God  has  had 
time  to  kill  off,  root  and  branch,  the 
breed  of  the  '  distinguished  clergy- 
man '  and  the  notion  of  it  in  the  minds 
of  the  younger  men,— the  brilliant 
preacher  type,  the  dinner-and-after- 
dinner  parson.  My  kind!  We  need  to- 
231 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

day  a  more  profoundly  human,  a  more 
vigorous  and  virile  type  of  men.  I 
tell  you,  Dane,  the  church  has  never 
sized  up  its  job  correctly  since  the 
days  of  Francis  of  Assisi,  and  then 
it  was  only  a  little  knot  of  dreamers 
who  caught  on.  I  remember  Francis 
had  certain  notions  of  his  own  on 
church  building,"  he  added  drily. 

" '  How  very  hard  it  is  to  be 
A  Christian!  '  " 

repeated  Dane  in  an  undertone. 

"  Hard?  Yes.  Very  nearly  impos- 
sible, my  friend,  even  for  one  select 
soul,  kept  in  training  through  genera- 
tions of  godly  forbears.  Then  think 
of  working  the  Christ  ideal  on  a  whole 
world  lying  in  wickedness!  It  is  a 
sterner  struggle,  a  more  awful  preci- 
pice of  purpose  to  scale  than  the  uni- 
verse ever  witnessed  or  conceived. 
And  we  are  going  at  it  with  coloured 
232 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

sewing  silks  instead  of  cables,  and 
straws  instead  of  scaling  ladders!  God 
forgive  us." 

A  long  sigh  like  a  groan  escaped  the 
clergyman's  lips  and  revealed  the 
depths  within  him  which  Dane  had  not 
sounded. 

There  was  silence.  Then  flinging 
his  head  back  with  a  strong  movement 
Dr.  Tiffany  exclaimed, 

"  Get  out,  Dane,  while  you  can  and 
save  yourself  from  the  atrophy  of  re- 
ligious professionalism.     I  had  ideals 
once,  myself.     I  can  pass  for  having 
them  now,  on  occasion.     I  can  even 
fool  myself  sometimes  for  a  little.    I 
am  sorry  to  drive  you  to  India,  but- 
Dane  had  risen  again,  bound  to  close 
a  conversation  which  was  becoming  too 
strenuous  for  his  endurance  just  then. 
"It  is  not  you  who   drive  me   to 
India,  Dr.  Tiffany.     You  are  not  the 
man  I  expected  to  find  as  the  head  of 
233 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Mo  tie 

Calvary  Church  when  I  came  here,  but 
you  are,  to  my  thinking,  a  greater  man. 
I  am  going  to  India  because  there  is 
work  there  I  want  to  try  to  do." 
Overcoming  a  formidable  shyness 
Dane  continued,  "  Also  I  want  to  be 
out  of  sight  and  reach  of  the  girl  I 
love  and— cannot  win  for  wife.  It  has 
the  note  of  a  coward  I  confess.  But, 
I  can  work  for  God  in  India,  and  it  is 
where  she  lived— where  her  heart  lives 
still.  Something,  some  aura  of  her 
will  dwell  with  me  there;— I  am  fanci- 
ful enough  at  least  to  think  so." 

Dr.  Tiffany  had  risen  and  walked 
beside  his  assistant  to  the  door. 

"  Yes.  Go  to  India,  Dane.  There  is 
work  there  for  a  man  like  you.  Per- 
haps when  you  have  learned  t  the  way  ' 
you  will  come  back  and  show  it  to  us 
others.  But— listen  now!— You  will 
take  Noelle  Motte  with  you,  Noelle 
herself,  instead  of  her  wraith.  On  the 
234 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

whole  you  will  find  it  more  satisfac- 
tory. " 

"  But  that  you  see,  sir,  is  impossi- 
ble. I  think  you  must  understand— " 

"  Ask  her  again,  lad,  and  see." 


235 


XIX 

THE  calendar  on  Dr.  Tiffany^s 
desk  in  the  parish  house  study 
was  set  at  February  first.  The 
desk  was  littered  with  architect's  draw- 
ings. Dr.  Tiffany  had  just  pushed 
them  away  with  a  gesture  of  impa- 
tience and  sat  leaning  back  in  his 
swivel  chair  in  a  brown,  and  by  no 
means  a  golden  brown,  study.  The 
cloud  was  dispelled  as  the  outer  door 
opened,  following  a  light  knock,  and, 
unannounced,  with  the  freedom  of  an 
habitue,  Noelle  Motte  entered.  She 
wore  black  without  signs  of  mourning; 
her  colour  was  brilliant  from  her  walk 
in  the  keen  air;  there  was  less  of  sad- 
ness in  her  eyes  than  formerly,  but  a 
deeper  tenderness. 

"  What   in   the    world   brings   you 
236 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

here?  "  asked  Dr.  Tiffany,  taking  her 
hands  affectionately  and  seating  her 
beside  the  desk. 

"  What  a  welcome!  Something  very 
important,"  she  added  firmly,  her 
glance,  however,  less  firm  than  her 
tone.  "  I  am  going  to  be  married." 

"  I  have  been  in  training  for  weeks 
against  this,"  he  returned  with  a 
whimsical  smile.  "  My  moral  muscle 
is  in  prime  condition.  So— what  can  I 
do  for  you?  " 

"  Will  you  marry  me  then?  '  No- 
elle  could  not  raise  her  eyes  to  his  face 
just  then. 

"  Certainly,"  his  lips  twitching 
slightly;  "  the  irony  of  fate  could 
have  it  no  otherwise.  Is  the  Cub  in 
his  usual  luck?  Is  it  to  be  soon?  '' 

"  A  week  from  to-day,  Dr.  Tiffany, 
if  that  suits  you." 

"  At  the  O'Briens'?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  there  now  altogether, 

237 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

you  know.  There  will  be  no  one  but 
the  family  present,  except  Dr.  Hart- 
lieb." 

"  So  he  is  in  this  country  still.  I 
thought  he  had  sailed." 

"  He  was  to  have  gone  two  weeks 
ago  but  is  staying  on,  for  us.  We  are 
to  sail  with  him  the  tenth." 

"  I  am  glad  you  can  go  to  India, 
Noelle." 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful!  '  Tears  sprang 
to  her  eyes.  "  I  was  so  homesick  for 
it  always,  and  now  to  have  my  best  of 
life  begin  there  and  the  chance  to  work 
for  those  dear  people  with  him,— I  am 
sure  no  one  ever  had  so  much  joy— 
my  heart  almost  breaks  with  it  some- 
times. If  only  Maman  can  know!  ' 

"  She  knows.  Do  not  doubt  it.  The 
joy  is  hers  also." 

These   words   were   spoken   with   a 
rare    gentleness    which    Dr.    Tiffany 
manifested   on   occasion,   but   he    re- 
238 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

turned  at  once  with  a  certain  deter- 
mination to  the  matter-of-fact  tone 
which  he  found  it  wise  to  give  the 
interview. 

"  Miss  Motte,  here's  a  point  I  long 
to  know!  The  Wise  Man  from  the 
East  brought  gifts  as  I  am  informed; 
gifts  of  a  somewhat  illustrious  char- 
acter, but  I  hear  also  that  you  are 
quixotic  enough  to  decline  them.  Is 
this  true?  I  hoped  you  had  more 
sense." 

"  I  have  not  been  in  the  least  quix- 
otic, Dr.  Tiffany.  The  gifts  you  speak 
of  are  placed  in  Dr.  Hartlieb's  hands 
in  trust  for  the  Agra  Mission,  but  we 
-Mr.  Dane  and  I— will  draw  our  sup- 
port from  the  income  of  them.  Is  not 
that  clear,  straight,  common-sensi- 
ble? " 

"  Did  your  brain  produce  such  wis- 
dom? " 

"  Mine  and  mine  alone!  "  she  cried 

239 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

exulting,  then  with  a  sudden  swift 
compunction,  marking  a  suggestion  of 
strain  in  Ms  face,  she  laid  her  hand  on 
his  and  said  reproachfully, 

"  Why  don't  you  show  me  those 
plans  and  talk  to  me  about  the  new 
church?  You  never  consult  me  any 
more?  " 

"  Don't  I?  Lay  that  to  Dane.  He 
deserves  it.  Besides  those  plans  are 
not  for  a  church.  If  you  had  glanced 
at  them  with  the  smallest  interest  you 
would  have  seen  that  they  are  plans 
for  a  model  tenement,  dispensary  and 
so  forth  in  connection  with  our  present 
church." 

"  How  remarkable!  May  I  look?  ' 
Noelle  turned  to  the  desk  and  bent 
over  the  drawings,  Dr.  Tiffany  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  and  watching  her 
with  a  curiously  pensive  smile  which 
said,  "  Assume  as  much  interest  as  you 
will,  I  am  not  deceived.  Your  heart 
240 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

is  far  from  me.    Still  we  will  both  play 
the  game." 

"  These  plans  are  most  attractive," 
Noelle  said  presently.  "  But  how  are 
the  plans  for  the  new  church  getting 
on?  I  have  heard  nothing  of  it  lately, 
but  that  is  not  strange." 

"  Not  strange  because  you  have  had 
over  much  care  in  other  directions;  not 
strange  also  because  there  is  to  be  no 
new  church.  The  funds,  as  far  as  the 
donors  consent,  are  to  go  for  these  other 
purposes.  In  general  they  like  the 
scheme.  The  cost  will  be  a  third  less." 

Noelle 's  eyes  spoke  her  incredulous 
amazement. 

"  Don't  you  think  the  present  church 
good  enough,  Miss  Motte?  "  with  some 
acrimony. 

"  Why,  yes.  I  always  thought  it 
was,  and  in  the  right  place  for  the 
unfashionable  folk,  but  I  supposed 
you— ' 

241 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  You  supposed  me  wholly  given 
over  to  sinful  pride  and  worldly  ambi- 
tion, masquerading,  a  little  incongru- 
ously to  be  sure,  under  the  name  of 
'  Calvary.'  Well,  you  may  not  have 
been  altogether  wrong,  although  I  wish 
to  say  that  I  myself  found  the  gift  of 
the  lot  by  our  Brother  Search  indiges- 
tible from  the  start.  Hardened  world- 
ling though  I  am,  I  have  my  better 
nature  also.  A  certain  man  came  down 
from  Jericho  and  stirred  it  up  uncom- 
fortably." 

Noelle's  eyes  were  wide  with  serious 
and  sympathetic  wonder. 

"  Dr.  Hartlieb?  "  she  asked  after  a 
pause. 

"  No  wonder  you  name  him.  He  has 
been  wonder-worker-in-chief  among  us, 
hasn't  he?  Look  at  you,— suddenly 
free  to  marry  the  man  of  your  choice. 
Look  at  Matthew  O'Brien  hard  at  it 
every  day  in  his  laboratory,  '  God's  in 
242 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

his  heaven  '  on  his  lips  instead  of  a 
sneer  and  a  welcome  for  even  me !  But 
it  wasn't  Hartlieb  but  Dane,  the  lad 
you  love,  with  the  Galahad  look  in  his 
eyes  and  the  shock  of  his  boy  faith  in 
me  which  I  had  to  see!  He  awoke  the 
notion,  more  or  less  chimerical,  that  it 
is  not  yet  too  late  for  something  ere  the 
end  yet  to  be  done." 

Noelle's  eyes  spoke  unutterable 
things.  She  had  risen,  for  the  clock 
struck  twelve. 

"  '  Some  work  of  noble  note 

Not  unbecoming  men  that  strove  with  Gods?  ' 

"  I  should  think  not!  And  there 
William  Dane  thinks  you  hate  him!  ' 

"  And  so  I  do,"  with  perfect  grav- 
ity. 

"  May  I  tell  him  so?  Is  he  in  his 
office?  Would  he  mind  my  speaking 
to  him  a  moment?  ''  Noelle  spoke  with 
sudden  shyness. 

243 


The  Mystery  of  Miss  Motte 

"  Probably  not.  Run  along.  Don't 
disturb  me  again,  if  you  please,  Miss 
Motte.  I  have  matters  of  importance 
to  attend  to.  A  minute,  though!  At 
what  hour  do  you  wish  to  be  married1? 
Let  me  mark  the  date  on  my  calendar, 
'  lest  we  forget,— lest  we  forget!  '  '  a 
small  sigh  under  breath. 

"  Seven  o'clock,  if  you  please,  Dr. 
Tiffany." 

The  inner  door  opened  at  Noelle's 
knocking.  Dane  appeared,  a  sudden 
flame  of  gladness  leaping  to  his  eyes 
as  he  saw  her.  Dr.  Tiffany  turned 
back  to  his  desk. 


THE   END. 


244 


From 

C.  Page  &  Company's 
Announcement  List 
of  New  Fiction 


The  Call  of  the  South 

BY  ROBERT  LEE  DURHAM.     Cloth  decorative,  with  6  illus- 
trations by  Henry  Roth $1.50 

A  very  strong  novel  dealing  with  the  race  problem  in  this 
country.  The  principal  theme  is  the  danger  to  society  from  the 
increasing  miscegenation  of  the  black  and  white  races,  and  the 
encouragement  it  receives  in  the  social  amenities  extended  to 
negroes  of  distinction  by  persons  prominent  in  politics,  philan- 
thropy and  educational  endeavor;  and  the  author,  a  Southern 
lawyer,  hopes  to  call  the  attention  of  the  whole  country  to  the 
need  of  earnest  work  toward  its  discouragement.  He  has 
written  an  absorbing  drama  of  We  which  appeals  with  apparent 
logic  and  of  which  the  inevitable  denouement  comes  as  a  final 
and  convincing  climax. 

The  author  may  be  criticized  by  those  who  prefer  not  to  face 
the  hour  "  When  Your  Fear  Cometh  As  Desolation  And  Your 
Destruction  Cometh  As  A  Whirlwind;  "  but  his  honesty  of 
purpose  in  the  frank  expression  of  a  danger  so  well  understood 
in  the  South,  which,  however,  many  in  the  North  refuse  to 
recognizs,  while  others  have  overlooked  it,  will  be  upheld  by 
the  sober  second  thought  of  the  majority  of  his  readers. 


L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY'S 


The  House  in  the  Water 

BY  CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS,  author  of  "  The  Haunters  of 
the  Silences,"  "  Red  Fox,"  "  The  Heart  of  the  Ancient 
Wood,"  etc.  With  cover  design,  sixteen  full-page  drawings, 
and  many  minor  decorations  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Cloth  decorative,  with  decorated  wrapper  .  .  $1.50 

Professor  Roberts's  new  book  of  nature  and  animal  life  is  one 
long  story  in  which  he  tells  of  the  life  of  that  wonderfully  acute 
and  tireless  little  worker,  the  beaver.  "  The  Boy  "  and  Jabe 
the  Woodsman  again  appear,  figuring  in  the  story  even  more 
than  they  did  in  "  Red  Fox;  "  and  the  adventures  of  the  boy 
and  the  beaver  make  most  absorbing  reading  for  young  and 
old. 

The  following  chapter  headings  for  "  The  House  in  the 
Water  "  will  give  an  idea  of  the  fascinating  reading  to  come: 

THE  SOUND  IN  THE  NIGHT     (Beavers  at  Work). 

THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  POND     (Otter  and  Beaver). 

IN  THE  UNDER-WATER  WORLD     (Home  Life  of  the  Beaver). 

NIGHT  WATCHERS     ("  The  Boy  "  and  Jabe  and  a  Lynx  See 

the  Beavers  at  Work). 
DAM   REPAIRING  AND  DAM  BUILDING     (A  "  House-raising  " 

Bee). 

THE  PERIL  OF  THE  TRAPS    (Jabe  Shows  "  The  Boy"). 
WINTER  UNDER  WATER     (Safe  from  All  but  Man). 
THE  SAVING  OF  BOY'S  POND     ("  The  Boy  "   Captures   Two 

Outlaws). 

"  As  a  writer  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an  enviable 
place.  He  is  the  most  literary,  as  well  as  the  most  imaginative 
and  vivid  of  all  the  nature  writers."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  His  animal  stories  are  marvels  of  sympathetic  science  and 
literary  exactness."  —  New  York  World. 

"  Poet  Laureate  of  the  Animal  World,  Professor  Roberts 
displays  the  keenest  powers  of  observation  closely  interwoven 
with  a  fine  imaginative  discretion."  —  Boston  Transcript. 


LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION 


Captain  Love 

THE  HISTORY  OF  A  MOST  ROMANTIC  EVENT  IN  THE  LIFE  OF 
AN  ENGLISH  GENTLEMAN  DURING  THE  REIGN  OF  His  MAJESTT 
GEORGE  THE  FIRST.  CONTAINING  INCIDENTS  OF  COURTSHIP 
AND  DANGER  AS  RELATED  IN  THE  CHRONICLES  OF  THE  PERIOD 
AND  Now  SET  DOWN  IN  PRINT 

BY  THEODORE  ROBERTS,  author  of  "  The  Red  Feathers," 
"  Brothers  of  Peril,"  etc.  Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by 
Frank  T.  Merrill $1.50 

A  stirring  romance  with  its  scene  laid  in  the  troublous  times 
in  England  when  so  many  broken  gentlemen  foregathered  with 
the  "  Knights  of  the  Road;  "  when  a  man  might  lose  part  of 
his  purse  to  his  opponent  at  "  White's  "  over  the  dice,  and  the 
next  day  be  relieved  of  the  rest  of  his  money  on  some  lonely 
heath  at  the  point  of  a  pistol  in  the  hand  of  the  self-same  gambler. 

But,  if  the  setting  be  similar  to  other  novels  of  the  period,  the 
story  is  not.  Mr.  Roberts's  work  is  always  original,  his  style  is 
always  graceful,  his  imagination  fine,  his  situations  refreshingly 
novel.  In  his  new  book  he  has  excelled  himself.  It  is  un- 
doubtedly the  best  thing  he  has  done. 


Bahama  Bill 

BY  T.  JENKINS  HAINS,  author  of  "  The  Black  Barque," 
"  The  Voyage  of  the  Arrow,"  etc.  Cloth  decorative,  with 
frontispiece  in  colors  by  H.  R.  Reuterdahl  .  .  $1.50 

The  scene  of  Captain  Hains's  new  sea  story  is  laid  in  the 
region  of  the  Florida  Keys.  His  hero,  the  giant  mate  of  the 
wrecking  sloop,  Ssa-Horse,  while  not  one  to  stir  the  emotions 
of  gentle  feminine  readers,  will  arouse  interest  and  admiration 
in  men  who  appreciate  bravery  and  daring. 

His  adventures  while  plying  his  desperate  trade  are  full  of 
the  danger  that  holds  one  at  a  sharp  tension,  and  the  reader 
forgets  to  be  on  the  side  of  law  and  order  in  his  eagerness  to  see 
the  "  wrecker  "  safely  through  his  exciting  escapades. 

Captain  Hains's  descriptions  of  life  at  sea  are  vivid,  absorbingly 
frank  and  remarkably  true.  "  Bahama  Bill  "  ranks  high  as 
a  stirring,  realistic,  unsoftened  and  undiluted  tale  of  the  sea, 
chock  full  of  engrossing  interest. 


L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY'S 


Matthew  Porter 

BY  GAMALIEL  BRADFORD,  JR.,  author  of  "  The  Private  Tutor," 
etc.      With  a  frontispiece  in  colors  by  Griswold  Tyng     $1.50 
When  a  young  man  has  birth  and  character  and  strong  ambi- 
tion it  is  safe  to  predict  for  him  a  brilliant  career;    and,  when 
The  Girl  comes  into  his  life,  a  romance  out  of  the  ordinary. 
Such  a  man  is  Matthew  Porter,  and  the  author  has  drawn  him 
with  fine  power. 

Mr.  Bradford  has  given  us  a  charming  romance  with  an 
unusual  motive.  Effective  glimpses  of  the  social  life  of  Boston 
form  a  contrast  to  the  more  serious  purpose  of  the  story;  but, 
in  "  Matthew  Porter,"  it  is  the  conflict  of  personalities,  the 
development  of  character,  the  human  element  which  grips  the 
attention  and  compels  admiration. 

Anne  of  Qreen  Gables 

BY  L.  M.  MONTGOMERY.  Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  $1.50 
Every  one,  young  or  old,  who  reads  the  story  of  "  Anne  of 
Green  Gables,"  will  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  tell  their  friends 
of  her  irresistible  charm.  In  her  creation  of  the  young  heroine 
of  this  delightful  tale  Miss  Montgomery  will  receive  praise  for 
her  fine  sympathy  with  and  delicate  appreciation  of  sensitive 
and  imaginative  girlhood. 

The  story  would  take  rank  for  the  character  of  Anne  alone; 
but  in  the  delineation  of  the  characters  of  the  old  farmer,  and 
his  crabbed,  dried-up  spinster  sister  who  adopt  her,  the  author 
has  shown  an  insight  and  descriptive  power  which  add  much  to 
the  fascination  of  the  book. 

Spinster  Farm 

BY  HELEN  M.  WINSLOW,  author  of  "  Literary  Boston."    Illus- 
trated from  original  photographs       ....      $1.50 
Whatever  Miss  Winslow  writes  is  good,  for  she  is  in  accord 
with  the  life  worth  living.     The  Spinster,  her  niece  "  Peggy," 
the    Professor,    and    young   Robert    Graves,  —  not    forgetting 
Hiram,  the  hired  man,  —  are    the  characters  to  whom  we  are 
introduced  on  "  Spinster  Farm."     Most  of  the  incidents  and 
all  of  the  characters  are  real,  as  well  as  the  farm  and  farmhouse, 
unchanged  since  Colonial  days. 

Light-hearted  character  sketches,  and  equally  refreshing  and 
unexpected  happenings  are  woven  together  with  a  thread  of 
happy  romance  of  which  Peggy  of  course  is  the  vivacious  heroine. 
Alluring  descriptions  of  nature  and  country  life  are  given  with 
fascinating  bits  of  biography  of  the  farm  animals  and  household 
pets. 


Selections  from 

L.  C.  Page  and  Company's 

List  of  Fiction 


WORKS  OF 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS 

Each  one  vol.,  library  ismo,  cloth  decorative    .         .         .     $fjo 

The  Flight  of  Qeorgiana 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  DAYS  OF  THE  YOUNG  PRETENDER.  Illus- 
trated by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

"  A  love-story  in  the  highest  degree,  a  dashing  story,  and  a  re- 
markably well  finished  piece  of  work."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

The  Bright  Face  of  Danger 

Being  an  account  of  some  adventures  of  Henri  de  Launay,  son  of 

the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.     Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

"  Mr.   Stephens   has  fairly  outdone    himself.       We   thank  him 

heartily.     The   story  is   nothing   if   not   spirited   and  entertaining, 

rational  and  convincing."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

The  Mystery  of  Murray  Davenport 

(4<3th  thousand.) 

"  This  is  easily  the  best  thing  that  Mr.  Stephens  has  yet  done. 
Those  familiar  with  his  other  novels  can  best  judge  the  measure  of 
this  praise,  which  is  generous."  —  Buffalo  News. 

Captain  Ravenshaw 

OR,  THE  MAID  OF  CHEAPSIDE.  (52d  thousand.)  A  romance 
of  Elizabethan  London.  Illustrations  by  Howard  Pyle  and  other 
artists. 

Not  since  the  absorbing  adventures  of  D'Artagnan  have  we  had 
anything  so  good  in  the  blended  vein  of  romance  and  comedy. 

The  Continental  Dragoon 

A  ROMANCE  OF  PHILIPSE  MANOR    HOUSE    IN    1778.      (5jd 

thousand.)     Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

A  stirring  romance  of  the  Revolution,  with  its  scene  laid  on 
neutral  territory. 


L.  C.  PAGE   <5r>   COMPANY'S 


Philip  Winwood 

(7Oth  thousand.)  A  Sketch  of  the  Domestic  History  of  an 
American  Captain  in  the  War  of  Independence,  embracing  events 
that  occurred  between  and  during  the  years  1763  and  1785  in 
New  York  and  London.  Illustrated  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

An  Enemy  to  the  King 

(7oth  thousand.)     From  the  "  Recently  Discovered  Memoirs   of 
the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire."     Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 
An   historical  romance  of  the   sixteenth  century,  describing  the 

adventures  of  a  young  French  nobleman  at  the  court  of  Henry  III., 

and  on  the  field  with  Henry  IV. 

The  Road  to  Paris 

A  STORY  OF  ADVENTURE.      (35th  thousand.)      Illustrated  by 

H.  C.  Edwards. 

An  historical  romance  of  the  eighteenth  century,  being  an  account 
of  the  life  of  an  American  gentleman  adventurer  of  Jacobite  an- 
cestry. 

A  Gentleman  Player 

His  ADVENTURES  ON  A  SECRET  MISSION  FOR  QUEEN   ELIZA- 
BETH.    (48th  thousand.)     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
The  story  of  a  young  gentleman  who  joins  Shakespeare's  com- 
pany of  players,  and  becomes  a  friend  and  protege  of   the  great 
poet. 

Clementina's  Highwayman 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated $1.50 

Mr.  Stephens  has  put  into  his  new  book,  "  Clementina's  Highway 
man,"  the  finest  qualities  of  plot,  construction,  and  literary  finish. 

The  story  is  laid  in  the  mid-Georgian  period.  It  is  a  dashing, 
sparkling,  vivacious  comedy,  with  a  heroine  as  lovely  and  changeable 
as  an  April  day,  and  a  hero  all  ardor  and  daring. 

The  exquisite  quality  of  Mr.  Stephens's  literary  style  clothes  the 
story  in  a  rich  but  delicate  word-fabric ;  and  never  before  have  his 
setting  and  atmosphere  been  so  perfect. 


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